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LEADBETTER’S LUCK 









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THEY WERE MAKING IT AS HARD AS POSSIBLE FOR HIM 



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LEADBETTER’S 

LUCK 

By 

HOLMAN DAY 


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NEW YORK 

DUFFIELD AND COMPANY 

1923 






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,31 ret 

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Copyright, 1923, by 
Duffield and Company 


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Printed in U. S. A . 


OCT 2 0 '23 7 

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©C1A759476*, ' 


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ILLUSTRATIONS 


They were making it as hard as possible for 

HIM. frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 


“So that’s it, is it? They’ve had the impu¬ 
dence TO PLASTER A SPY ON ME—AND YOU’RE 
THE spy!”.66 

Crouched over the little camp-fire, figuring 

estimates.130 


He tossed the fluttering flakes over the 

HEADS OF HIS ROARING MEN. 244 









LEADBETTER’S LUCK 




LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


CHAPTER I 

YOUNG Hale had no trouble in recogniz¬ 
ing the sound as Jeff Gordon’s voice though 
the two had not met up with each other since 
graduation in the same class from the school 
of forestry. It was the full-throated “Wah- 
hoo-wah!” which had often resounded across 
Yale’s campus and had shocked the classic 
conservatives who frowned and reprimanded 
and soulfully consigned Jeff back again to 
the northern wilds from which he had 
emerged. But Jeff had taken his own time 
about going back; he did go after he had re¬ 
ceived his diploma; a timber baron father, 
who had awakened to the needs of modern 
conservation, had been impatiently awaiting 
his son’s return. 


3 


4 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


There was more or less hilarity in the howl 
which Richard Hale heard echoing through 
the woodland aisles. Wide-mouthed, loud- 
voiced, slapping his thigh to emphasize his 
remarks, Jeff never could keep joviality out 
of his tones. 

Hale turned quickly from the tree on 
which he had been inspecting suspicious 
bolls, breasted his way through a copse and 
confronted Jeff in a path. The latter danced 
his college mate around for a time, cackling 
laughter, saying nothing sensible. Then, 
“How do you like gardening, Dick?” 

That wasn’t sensible, either. Richard 
flushed under his tan. “No slurs, Jeff! I 
have a good job here.” 

“Glorified gardening!” insisted the humor¬ 
ist. He swung his arm to point his meaning. 

The woodland which stretched about them 
was carefully kept, a bit artificial even in 
its more rugged aspects. 

From the path were obtained glimpses of 
gravelled road, of a rockery and carefully 
pruned shrubs; all revealed artistic “slick- 
ing-up” of the natural charms. 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


5 


“Now, see here!” protested Hale. “I have 
five hundred acres of real woodland over in 
the rear of this estate. I’m clearing hard 
growth, planting a pine tract, developing a 
stand of spruce, making a test of soils, work¬ 
ing out a scheme-” 

“In a good big garden,” pressed the per¬ 
secutor. “It’s a place with a fence around it.” 

“But my work here is forestry* up-to-date 
stuff, with everything to work with.” 

“Oh, you can play checkers on a postage 
stamp, using a microscope. But you ought 
to be moving on the big board, Dick.” 

“Are you here to offer me a job?” It was 
a tart query. 

Jeff chuckled. “Oh, no! I wouldn’t be able 
to boss you in good shape. Another thing, 
my old man would mighty soon find out how 
much more you know about forestry than I 
do, and he might set you to bossing His 

grin and the really earnest compliment 
placated Richard. “I’ve been down to the big 
town to make contracts; that’s how much con¬ 
fidence my father is putting in me, can’t afford 
to joggle it by letting him run up against a 



6 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


higher grade man like you, Dick.” He 
grinned more broadly. “Met one of the fel¬ 
lows and he told me where you are located. 
Dropped off to say hallo.” 

“That all?” Richard puckered his eyes and 
showed some incredulity. 

“Well, that’s a fine biff on the jaw of a 
friendly spirit!” retorted Gordon. “Hon¬ 
estly, I do want to gab a little with you, old 
boy, in the style of past days! Get hungry 
that way once in a while. You know! The 
timber country is all right—home folks are 
fine—but fellows who have been in school to¬ 
gether and have dreamed out their future in 
confabs just have to meet up once in a while 
and compare notes on how the dreams have 
come out. Now that’s confession enough, 
isn’t it?” 

Richard replied to that question by grab¬ 
bing Jeff’s hand in another and more under¬ 
standing greeting. 

“Well, let’s sit down!” suggested the vis¬ 
itor, about to drop himself on a prostrate tree 
trunk beside the path. 

Richard pulled him away to a bowlder. 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


7 


“That trunk isn’t a seat, not for chaps of our 
size, Jeff. It’s bark nailed on a shell frame. 
Must have picturesque decay for the eyes of 
the house guests!” 

“Oh, widdy-widdy!” scoffed the man from 
the big woods, “whittling” one forefinger 
with the other. “How about this rock be¬ 
fore I take a chance on it? Stuffed, eh? Does 
it play a tune when you sit on it?” 

Richard tripped his friend and dropped 
him solidly on the bowlder. “Hope that jar 
will settle a little of the froth!” 

“Not a bubble left,” confessed Jeff, making 
a wry face. 

“I don’t blame you a bit for taking a slam 
at this kind of forestry. It isn’t what I really 
want to do, this seeding and trimming, forcing 
and faking. However, I’ve had a wonderful 
opportunity to go on with the study of the 
fundamentals, soils and so forth.” 

“You always could dig into things,” praised 
Jeff. “I have only slambanged along, hitting 
the high spots, like I hike over tussocks in a 
bog when I’m timber cruising. I’ll bet you 
could make a commercial killing in the big 


8 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


woods if you could have the right lay. The 
operators up my way sure do need a plan of 
consistent conservation—something better and 
more far-reaching than anything that’s been 
attempted so far in our parts. I’m only half 
doing it, Dick. The rest of ’em, even the big 
concerns, haven’t got down to real bedrock. 
iWhy, confound it, they’ve got now to figuring 
how much longer it will last instead of calcu¬ 
lating on ways to make it last. Of course, 
there isn’t any more slash and slaughter ex¬ 
cept in certain sections; the pulp concerns are 
hiring good foresters; but those infernal 
printing presses are clamoring and chewing 
day and night, gulping down our good reso¬ 
lutions along with the paper. It’s demand— 
demand—demand!” 

“Alas, for the dreams in the case of both of 
us!” smiled Richard. 

“Maybe we’re too young. In the north 
country, underneath, there persists the notion 
that gray whiskers are better credentials than 
diplomas. ‘Timber? There always has been 
enough, hasn’t there?’ That fool kind of argu¬ 
ment has kept a lot of old-fashioned bosses on 



LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


9 

their jobs in the north. Say, haven’t you told 
me that your uncle—what’s his name?” 

“Weston Hale.” 

“Isn’t he hitched up some way with the 
Telos Company?” 

“He’s a stockholder—he has money in a 
good many things.” 

“Why hasn’t he worked you in there as a 
forester?” 

“I’ve never asked him to do it.” 

“If ever a concern did need a dose of 
modern ideas in conservation that Telos Com¬ 
pany does, Dick! My dad’s concern is no 
model, the best I can do; but the Telos isn’t 
even a small imitation of the real thing—and 
that’s what a model is, the jokers tell us. It’s 
a scandal, really, the way old Batterson, their 
field manager, is operating. He must have 
got his ideas from the ancient boss who 
chopped down all the cedars of Lebanon. 
He’s absolutely the last of the old war-horses 
who stamped the forests flat and raked off 
the trees like a farmer clears a hayfield. Why 
the Telos hangs onto such a man I can’t un¬ 
derstand.” 


IO 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


“As I gather, there are several old- 
fashioned directors on the board. The field 
manager has always produced results, they 
say.” 

“If he keeps on he’ll produce ruination, 
Dick.” 

“It’s too bad,” stated Hale, with a forester’s 
true regret in his tones. 

“Why don’t you have your uncle take his 
little stockholder’s jimmy and pry an opening 
for you?” 

Richard hesitated, then he came out with 
a confession. “I’m not exactly ace high with 
my uncle, Jeff. He merely has some of his 
money in a timber proposition, for the sake 
of profit; he doesn’t look on the woods as I 
do, loving the big trees, planning for the 
future.” 

One of Jeff’s staccato laughs! Then he ar¬ 
raigned! 

“Aforesaid uncle belonging in Old ‘Prof. 
Piney’s’ roster of undesirables! Don’t you 
remember that poem he read to the class? I 
can recall one verse. Wish I could remember 
the useful stuff, too!” 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK u 
He quoted. 

“ ‘My curse on those who merely see, 

As thro’ the wood their way they wend, 

Board measure in a stately tree, 

A sawlog standing up on end.’ ” 

‘‘I’m afraid Uncle Weston belongs! He 
opposed me seriously when I wanted to take 
up forestry. Of course, he didn’t come right 
out and say that a man who neglects present 
opportunity and profit for the sake of genera¬ 
tions to come is a fool—but he skimmed 
around the subject and practically said it of 
jme. He had me lined out for a learned pro¬ 
fession. I was in a pretty tough position, 
Jeff. I never said anything to you in school 
for I’m no hand to whine. But my uncle be¬ 
came my guardian when my father died— 
guardian of my sister and myself. I took only 
enough of the modest estate to put me through 
school. I made over all the rest to sister, 
though she protested. But she’s a cripple, 
poor little sis! And when I left school I had 
to have a job mighty sudden. So I made up to 
a millionaire and here I am.” 


12 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


“And if you should go to affluent but un¬ 
wise nunky now, slap your manly chest and 
shout, ‘Your Telos needs me! I looked far 
ahead! Here am I!’? Would he not clasp 
you in his arms and cry, ‘Go, noble boy, into 
the north and bat old Batterson and kick him 
up to the times’?” 

Richard shrugged his broad shoulders. 

“I don’t think Uncle Weston would try a 
kick on me. He’s too dignified. But the look 
he’d give me through his eyeglasses would be 
just as effective as a kick. And he might say, 
‘Well, after all, nephew, you’ve been com¬ 
pelled to come to me for a job in this wonder¬ 
ful forestry work of yours.’ A crack like that, 
Jeff, might strain family relations too much. 
I hope I’ve had my last run-in with my uncle.” 

“But how about your own ambitions? You 
don’t like this—I won’t call it gardening, not 
again, Dicky! But you do want to get into the 
big woods, now don’t you?” pleaded Gordon. 
“There are opportunities. Sideline chances 
for a chap who is shrewd in timber stuff. I’m 
only half as bright as you—shut up! That’s 
the truth. But I’ve taken the dollars earned 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


13 


fairly from my dad and I’ve grabbed off some 
mighty good pickings from stumpage con¬ 
tracts by being on the ground. At the same 
time, I’m making progress right along in real 
conservation. This here—” again he indi¬ 
cated the reservation of the millionaire with 
a disparaging wave of his hand—“isn’t build¬ 
ing up anything valuable to give to the world. 
The north country—that’s where you belong. 
There are some bright boys up there already. 
IWe need more.” 

“And I want to go there,” declared Hale 
with soulful earnestness. 

Gordon was only jocularly in earnest when 
he said, “I think I’ll write an anonymous 
letter to the Telos folks, tell ’em how old 
Batterson is strangling their goose and advise 
’em to stop counting the golden eggs and give 
an eye to the devoted bird who has been lay¬ 
ing those eggs for dividends. Then I’ll add 
that one of their stockholders has a nephew 
who is sure a wonder in handing first aid 
to a half-strangled timber goose. What 
say?” 

“I’ll say nothing, Jeff! Not to that propo- 



14 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


sition. I might shock the little dicky-bird in 
the tree above us—to say nothing of jarring 
a fine friendship.” 

“The same old Dick! In your case it 
never did rhyme with trick,” returned Gor¬ 
don ruefully. “I have half a mind to stick 
wholly to operating and work you into our 
concern as a forester.” 

“I won’t consider such an offer, Jeff. In 
the first place, you’d disappoint your father, 
who has educated you to work out his plans.” 

“Probably!” He sighed. “Furthermore, 
you never could stand the language dad uses 
to me when I bump him hard on one of his 
old-fashioned corners. When it’s strictly in 
the family it’s all right, of course. Haven’t 
) r ou done anything about getting into the 
big woods?” 

“The usual letters, of course. Have tried 
the big concerns. My name is on file as an 
applicant. Have taken my nerve along and 
gone to New York headquarters of the two 
great paper and pulp companies several 
times.” 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


*s 

“And nothing doing?” 

“Posts all filled.” 

“So it goes, Dick! The hardest stunt for 
a young chap is to get his first chance to show 
what he can do. The story books invariably 
have true merit win. It does win all right 
enough after a fellow gets his first show. 
But luck and pull are big elements at the 
set-off. Sad but true! Of course, they ask 
what you’re doing now?” 

“Yes!” 

“This job is only—but I won’t say it! Re¬ 
member, however, you’re trying to get in 
with the big timber boys. They ask pointed 
questions. Really you’d stand a better show 
if you’d chuck this landscape business and 
forget you ever meddled with it. Are you 
ahead of the game?” 

“I have saved all I could—a few hundred 
dollars.” 

“Won’t take a loan from me if vou need 
it?” 

“I can’t do it, Jeff. But I’m grateful.” 

“And gritty! By thunder, you’ve got the 


16 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

right elements for the woods, Dick. Too bad 
you’re not up there. If you won’t conde¬ 
scend to try pull-” 

“It isn’t a matter of condescending, Jeff. 
Please don’t take me for a stiff-necked fool. 
I almost hate the word pride because it’s 
so often misinterpreted. I want to be in the 
big woods, of course. But I didn’t sit 
around, loafing, till I got a job which exactly 
suited me: I’ll do my best here till I can do 
better. Suppose we drop the subject for a 
time! Come along with me and examine 
some of my soil experiments. Even you, 
Mister Big Timber, may be able to pick up 
a few ideas.” 

“Sure I can. Always did kow-tow to your 
caput, Dicky!” 

The June afternoon was mellow. The 
woodland was inviting. They trod the check- 
erings of sunshine and shade, canvassing re¬ 
miniscences of their palship in the days at 
school. 

At the end of the exploration Richard led 
Jeff to a lodge in the woods. It was as¬ 
signed to the forester for his sole tenancy. 



LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


17 

“The Big Boss offered me a servant. I 
don’t want one. I like my own cooking. 
Hope you'll like it.” 

Gordon complimented that dinner with 
speech and gusto. He was as hearty in his 
appetite as he was in his laughter. 

After the dinner they paddled a canoe on 
the lake. 

“It’s fine,” averred Jeff, “but wait till you 
get into the north and catch the thrill of the 
white water!” 

In his discourse he made repeated refer¬ 
ences to the attractions of the big woods; it 
was shrewd and calculated attempt to in¬ 
flame Hale with the spirit of adventure. 

Pondered Gordon, “I’ll get him so he’ll 
run to nunky and beg on bended knee for a 
job with Telos. It’s in Dicky and it’s got 
to come out.” 

Jeff stayed the night and was assiduous in 
his prodding. Departing, he left behind 
him a singularly depressed young man. In 
Hale was a veritable and poignant homesick¬ 
ness, as if he were kept from his own by a 
network of aggravating circumstances. 


i8 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


He meditated regarding those “big ele¬ 
ments” on which his friend had dwelt. 

Richard was still disinclined to work his 
pull, such as it was. On mere luck he placed 
little dependence. 

But he did sit down and write to the Telos 
president an earnest letter, asking for a posi¬ 
tion, making no reference to the fact that he 
was the nephew of a stockholder in the corpo¬ 
ration. 


CHAPTER II 


Director Dixon stood up when he eased 
his mind; for a director to stand and talk in 
a meeting of the directors of the Telos corpo¬ 
ration was unusual, but Mr. Dixon seemed 
to require that posture for his complete out¬ 
pouring; occasionally he pounded his fist on 
the table, a procedure most unusual in a 
Telos meeting. The older directors blinked 
when he emphasized by a fist-whack; Mr. 
Dixon was young and a new director. 

He breezily berated old methods. 

He made some cutting references to Field 
Manager John P. Batterson and called that 
Telos executive “the last of the Mow-hack- 
’uns.” 

“I don’t like to have a faithful worker 
attacked behind his back,” observed Director 
Todd, of the old guard. 

“Well, bring him here in front of me and 
I’ll say the same things to his face,” de- 

19 


20 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


dared Dixon. “As I understand it, he has 
been requested to come here to headquarters, 
time and time again, and pays no attention 
to the requests.” 

“Mr. Batterson is a rather peculiar man,” 
returned Todd. 

“Strictly of the old type,” agreed elderly 
Sprague. “Of the woods and in the woods, 
impatient where meddlers are concerned, but 
devoted to his work.” 

“And has always turned in excellent prof¬ 
its,” endorsed President Mallon. 

“Oh, I know the majority here is against 
me,” confessed Dixon. “You have cleaned 
up handsomely in the past, gentlemen. My 
good father, God rest his soul, profited along 
with you and if he were here would prob¬ 
ably take a stand with you against me. But 
I represent the newer stockholders who must 
look to the future for their profits. Our 
rivals are using modern methods. Unless 
the Telos faces about and provides for a 
future by conservation and more careful cut¬ 
ting we’ll soon be scratching mighty hard for 
profits.” 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


21 


“Batterson reports unlimited supply,” said 
the president. 

“Yes, for his own life-time, if he doesn’t 
live too long. All the old fellows have been 
like that. I beg your pardon, gentlemen, for 
referring to age. But if you were young and 
strong enough to travel our tracts on your 
own two feet, as I have been doing this 
spring, you’d see what I have seen—a de¬ 
liberate system of slaughter of timber for 
ready returns. Batterson is gouging just the 
same as tricky men make a gold mine show 
up well by cleaning out the high-grade 
pockets. Our timber is our capital; I repre¬ 
sent the objectors. This isn’t a display of 
altruism for the sake of generations to come. 
It’s straight business. We must stop destroy¬ 
ing capital.” 

Director Dixon sat down. He was flushed 
and nervous. It had taken courage to blaze 
away at the complacency of those profit-tak¬ 
ing oldsters of the Telos. 

“It’s your idea, is it, that we should re¬ 
place Mr. Batterson with another manager?” 
queried the president frigidly. 


22 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


“I have not said that, sir.” 

“But when one tears down he should be 
ready with something constructive, definitely 
so. Have you in mind somebody who can 
do the work better than Batterson is do¬ 
ing it?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Let me say this,” interposed Director 
Sprague. He, too, rose. “In the past, when 
I was able to get about better, I used to go 
into our woods frequently. I watched John 
P. Batterson and I considered then, just as I 
believe today, that he is the best timber 
operator in the north country. He can get 
out of his men every ounce that’s in them. 
He knows his country, every trick in the 
game. He’s invaluable. With his knowledge 
and experience he is worth more every year. 
How many agree with me?” he demanded. 

Unmistakably, there was a majority in 
favor of Batterson. 

Mallon, as president, took the role of 
mediator. 

“I’ll confess, I lean toward Batterson. He 
has served us well. But our younger ele- 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


23 


ment, heirs and stockholders, will be left 
ere long to carry on the work and must be 
considered now in these changing times. Out¬ 
side of removing our present field manager, 
what have you to suggest, Mr. Dixon?” 

“An expert, technical report on our timber 
resources. A criticism on our present meth¬ 
ods. An estimate of Batterson’s real value 
in these new days when our rivals are adopt¬ 
ing more advanced methods.” 

“But nothing to offend Mr. Batterson!” 
put in the irreconcilable Sprague. 

“What is he, lord of us all, or our hired 
man?” demanded Dixon hotly. 

“I presume the business can be transacted 
tactfully,” suggested the mediating president. 
“I suppose you would leave the matter to an 
expert forester, Mr. Dixon?” 

“That’s my idea.” 

“Anybody in mind?” 

“Not especially. But one of the new crop, 
of course! A real up-to-date fellow!” 

“I received a letter a few days ago and 
was considerably impressed by the writer’s 


24 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


earnestness in stating his case and his capaci¬ 
ties. I’ll call for it.” 

He pressed a button and gave orders to 
the clerk who appeared. 

“Did he say he is a forestry school grad¬ 
uate?” queried Dixon while they were 
waiting. 

“Oh, yes! Yale.” 

“Ought to be a good man. Doing any¬ 
thing now?” 

“He’s chief forester on the extensive Craig- 
more estate; you’ve heard of it.” 

“That isn’t big timber experience.” 

“So he stated. But he has had field work 
in black growth timber, he says, and is quali¬ 
fied generally.” 

The clerk appeared with the letter and 
President Mallon read it aloud. 

“That sounds mighty good to me,” affirmed 
Dixon, on the side of zealous youth. 

“It’s not bad, though there’s considerable 
folderol in forestry, so I’m convinced,” 
stated Sprague. 

“What did you say the name is?” pressed 
Dixon. 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


25 


“Richard Hale.” 

“Never heard of him, though that’s not 
surprising.” 

“I think I have, if it’s the same party,” 
volunteered Director Todd. “My good 
friend, Weston Hale, has a nephew who took 
up forestry.” 

“The young man doesn’t mention such a 
relationship in his letter. It seems rather 
strange because he didn’t,” said President 
Mallon, with a strictly business estimate of 
what was valuable in getting a job. “He 
should have reflected that it might help 
him.” 

“The fact he didn’t resort to any such 
means sets him up a few notches in my 
regard,” declared Dixon. “He must be one 
of my kind.” 

“Why don’t you call Mr. Weston Hale on 
the telephone and make sure the young man 
is his nephew, Mr. Todd?” queried the presi¬ 
dent. 

Director Todd went on the errand. 

He reported, when he returned, “It’s his 
nephew, gentlemen.” 


26 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


“Did he solicit for the young man?” asked 
Mallon. 

“Not at all! Seemed rather cool about the 
business. Said Richard has chosen to make 
his own way, according to his own ideas, and 
that the young man’s failure to mention the 
uncle as a means of getting the job was quite 
characteristic of the nephew.” 

“I vote for young Hale,” cried Dixon im¬ 
pulsively. 

“There’s no motion before the board,” 
chided the president. 

“Well, let’s have one then. I’ll make way 
for my elders in that respect,” replied Dixon, 
grinning. 

But there was a silence, somewhat pro¬ 
longed. It was broken by President Mallon. 

“I must take a position between the two 
parties, I feel. The fact that Richard Hale 
is the nephew of a heavy stockholder puts 
a rather different aspect on the case.” 

Even at the risk of appearing too obtru¬ 
sive in the argument, Director Dixon al¬ 
lowed the spirit of reliant youth to prompt 
him. “According to that fine letter, the appli- 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


27 


cant is perfectly capable of standing on his 
own feet. I seriously object to having him 
know that we were influenced by his relation¬ 
ship to Weston Hale. I know what his feel¬ 
ings would be.” 

The president’s grim features expressed re¬ 
buke. “If Director Dixon had allowed me 
to proceed he would have had no occasion 
to make his remark.” 

“Pardon me, Mr. President! I have been 
talking too much today, I’ll admit.” He 
lighted a cigar and plugged his mouth. 

“It will be much better if the young man 
does not think we were influenced in any way 
by Mr. Weston Hale. As a matter of fact, 
we are not. I don’t know the nature of the 
nephew, of course. If he thinks we selected 
him on account of his uncle he may slack up 
in his work later, if we hire him; he may 
believe that his uncle’s influence will keep 
him on with us. Suppose, before we engage 
him, we pledge ourselves to conceal from 
him the fact which has just come to our 
knowledge!” 

Dixon was loudest in his affirmation. 


28 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


“What I meant when I said ‘different 
aspect’ was this: The nephew of a stockholder 
will be especially interested in all the affairs 
of the Telos in the north. I’m going to make 
a frank reference to something, gentlemen! 
Mr. Batterson is efficient, we all know. We 
are also more or less familiar with certain 
rumors which have come down from the 
north in regard to our manager’s tactics. 
iWe have allowed him much leeway. Prob¬ 
ably, in certain lines, he is doing only 
what other field managers do for a side 
profit. If Batterson is going too far we can 
probably depend on being informed by 
young Hale.” 

“Are we sending a forester or a spy into 
the north country?” inquired Sprague indig¬ 
nantly. 

“We give him no orders, sir. He’ll just 
naturally report on all conditions. There¬ 
fore, the nephew of a stockholder is espe¬ 
cially valuable.” 

“I don’t like Batterson,” blurted the ir¬ 
repressible young director, “but I don’t want 
to dislike later a chap who writes a letter 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


29 


like the one you’ve read to us, Mr. President. 
I hope he’ll keep his mouth shut except 
about his findings in regard to timber. If 
we’re after stuff on the field manager we’d 
better hire detectives.” 

“With the consent of the board,” went on 
Mallon, ignoring Dixon’s remark, “I’ll com¬ 
municate with Richard Hale and ask him to 
come here for an interview. Do I hear any 
objections?” 

There were none. 

“If he proves up as a capable forester 
we’ll engage him. The other matter will 
undoubtedly take care of itself—in view of 
the fact that he’ll have his uncle’s interests 
at heart,” persisted the president, frowning 
on Dixon. 

“I believe I led the cheering on that 
pledge thing,” stated the square-dealer. “All 
right! My mouth is shut! But I’m sorry.” 


1 


CHAPTER III 


Richard Hale was not over-elated when 
he received a letter from President Mallon 
of the Telos company. A telegram summon¬ 
ing him would have indicated a real interest 
and an actual need, so he reflected, estimat¬ 
ing his chances. The letter was a laconic 
invitation to call at the Telos general offices 
at his convenience. “Something may come 
from the interview,” hedged Mr. Mallon. 

At any rate, thought Richard, a bit of a 
push had discounted mere pull to some ex¬ 
tent and, perhaps, had set luck on the move. 
He decided to keep pushing. 

The letter came to him on a morning. In 
the afternoon he was on a train bound for 
the city of his hopes. In applying to the 
master of the Craigmore domains for a brief 
leave of absence he explained that he wished 
to pay a visit to his sister. It was an ex¬ 
cusable half-truth; he had not seen Marion 

30 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


3i 


for some months; he knew with what pathetic 
eagerness the shut-in awaited his rare visits. 

She dwelt with a companion-housekeeper 
in the suburbs of the city which was his 
destination. 

He dropped off the train and walked to 
the cottage and was received with ecstatic 
greeting. 

In the evening he and Marion talked over 
the new prospects. 

Vague as those prospects were just then, 
she was alternately delighted and depressed; 
she understood his ambition but the thought 
of his probable long absences in the north 
worried her. She wistfully apologized for 
such worries. 

“You have made all the sacrifices for me, 
Dick. How selfish I am!” 

“The subject of sacrifice has long been 
taboo, little sis!” He softened the rebuke 
by patting her hand. 

“And you’re determined not to ask Uncle 
Weston to intercede?” That phase had been 
canvassed between them. 

“I wouldn’t feel right in my mind if I 


32 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


got the job that way. If I’m taken on, the 
truth will come out later, of course; but 
if I’m hired on the basis of a straight busi¬ 
ness proposition there’ll be no tag ends to 
the thing. I can go ahead as straight for¬ 
ester; it’s bad to be hooked up with fav¬ 
oritism. The field manager, so I understand, 
is a hard man to get along with. He must 
be made to understand that I’m not up there 
spying on an uncle’s account.” 

In that frame of mind Richard went to 
the Telos offices the next morning. 

His interview with President Mallon was 
brief and not conclusive. 

“I like your style of set-up, young man,” 
acknowledged the head of the Telos. “You 
look as if you are well able to get about in 
the woods.” He tapped the packet of pa¬ 
pers which Richard had handed over. “I’ll 
call in such directors as I can reach handily 
and we’ll examine your credentials. If you’ll 
be so kind you may return at three o’clock 
this afternoon.” 

Richard bowed and turned toward the 
door. 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


33 


“By the way,” probed Mallon, “do these 
papers contain references from any responsi¬ 
ble parties in this city?” 

“No, sir! They relate to my capability 
as a forester. I can get character references 
for you, however.” 

“From persons in this city?” 

“Not handily, I’m afraid, sir.” 

Mr. Mallon was playing the young man 
to the full length of the line, testing his 
endurance; it was essential, Mr. Mallon re¬ 
flected, to ascertain just how close-mouthed 
and reliant this prospective emissary was. 
“A recommendation from some prominent 
man in town, preferably a man of financial 
standing, would appeal greatly to the di¬ 
rectors, I’m sure. I’m favorably disposed 
but I’m not supreme. I think you should 
use all your resources.” 

But Richard had settled on his course and 
he stuck to his resolution. “I thank you 
for the hint, sir. I know it’s valuable. But 
I’m unable to take advantage of it. I’ll 
come for my answer at three, as you suggest.” 

President Mallon scratched the side of 


34 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


his head and pondered after this rather in¬ 
tractable young chap had gone away. “He 
knows how to keep his mouth shut, all right. 
That’s a good trait in an employee. If he 
doesn’t talk outside the company, that’s fine! 
But he may be just as stiff about talking 
inside the concern in the way of a general 
cleaning up of conditions. However, I’ll 
give him a good word to the board, I think.” 

Richard returned immediately to Marion, 
making the most of his opportunity to be 
with her. 

“You’re truly stubborn,” she told him, 
when he had reported on his interview. “But 
you’ll have something to say to Uncle Wes¬ 
ton, won’t you, before you go to the woods?” 

“Yes! After I land the job.” 

“I think he’ll be a bit peevish because you 
didn’t go to him first.” 

“I can stand that kind of peevishness, sis, 
dear. I can look him squarely in the eye. 
But if I had given him a chance to follow 
up his peevishness of the past with a twit 
about needing his help to boost me into a job, 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 35 

I’m afraid he would have me looking at the 
floor. Now let’s talk about jolly things!” 

Impulsively, he picked her up in his arms 
and carried her out of doors into an arbor. 

“Honestly, I don’t feel natural in a house 
any more, sis! I hope I’ll not get too com¬ 
pletely wild in the north woods, if I go 
there.” 

“Oh, they’ll give you the position, Dick. 
How can they help doing it? You’re my 
perfectly grand big brother!” 

“I wish you were an eminent financier. 
I’d carry your recommendation back this 
afternoon. We’d win with it!” 

But Richard won without it. 

At half-past three that afternoon, after 
serenely enduring cross-examination by the 
president and directors of the Telos, he was 
hired as forester. 

Dixon came around the table and shook 
Richard’s hand enthusiastically. The older 
directors seemed to think such extravagance 
was uncalled for. 

“We want a lot of facts from the north, 


36 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

strictly about our resources. You’re going 
to supply them, aren’t you?” demanded the 
representative of the new blood. 

“I’ll do my best, sir.” 

“How soon can you leave for the field?” 
asked Mallon. 

“Very soon, sir, I think. My present em¬ 
ployer has been very generous in all our 
relations.” 

“The sooner the better! Full instructions 
will be written out and ready for you when 
you come this way again. We hope you’re 
going to be very valuable in what is a new 
departure for the Telos.” 

Dixon turned on his fellow directors the 
moment Richard closed the door behind 
him. 

“We’ll be put in a very silly position, gen¬ 
tlemen, unless something is done mighty 
quick.” 

“What do you mean?” President Mallon 
demanded on behalf of the surprised group. 

“He’ll naturally call on his uncle, now that 
the business is settled. The boy has made 
his own way, he feels, and it’s something 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


37 


which calls for a bit of crowing. I’m young, 
and I know how it is. Mr. Weston Hale has 
been offish about this forester business of 
young Richard’s, so Mr. Todd has told us. 
It’ll be strictly human nature for Uncle 
Weston to tell a proud young man about 
that telephone inquiry, eh? Uncle will be 
important in regard to his influence, we’ll 
seem silly on account of our silence, young¬ 
ster will feel a slap at his pride. It’s a 
small matter, to be sure, but why take any 
chances on throwing a wrench into the 
cogs?” 

“The point is well taken,” agreed Presi¬ 
dent Mallon. “Suppose you call Weston 
Hale on the telephone at once, Mr. Todd! 
Ask him, as a matter of policy, to allow the 
young man to think we knew nothing of the 
relationship when he was hired. Tell the 
uncle it’s the unanimous wish of the direc¬ 
tors.” 

Therefore, so it happened, when Richard 
reported to his uncle in the latter’s office a 
little later, his belief in his unaided success 
was not disturbed. To be sure, the nephew 


38 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

was conscious of some sort of reservation 
in the quizzical glances from the uncle; but 
Weston Hale had never endorsed whole¬ 
heartedly the forester business. 

“I do think, Richard, the Telos needs 
some new light on its resources. Perhaps 
you can handle the job as well as anybody 
else. Anything I can do for you?” 

“I think not, sir!” The nephew was mild 
but his pride showed. 

“I congratulate you on being able to make 
your way with our board.” Mr. Hale was 
a bit stiff, too. “However, in regard to 
John Batterson! I know something of his 
nature and his methods. Before investing 
in the company I took a trip into the north. 
I got on rather friendly terms with him. If 
you carry a letter from me it may smooth 
matters for you. Furthermore, I’ll send off 
a letter to him today, saying you’re coming. 
Now that you have secured the job, you can’t 
afford to neglect any means of getting on 
well with it. You’ll find Batterson a differ¬ 
ent proposition from the Telos directors. 
You understand!” 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


39 

“Yes, sir! I’ll be glad to have such a 
letter.” 

Therefore, when Richard was ready to 
leave for the north his credential aids were 
rather imposing. 

He found no difficulty in severing his con¬ 
nection with the Craigmore estate; he was 
able to throw his job to a classmate who had 
no ambitions outside of “glorified garden¬ 
ing.” 

One day he kissed Marion good-bye and 
headed for the Big Woods of the North. 


CHAPTER IV 


In the dawn of a golden July morning 
Richard Hale awoke. He had slept at Rapa- 
cook Carry, on the north shore of the great 
Caribou waters. 

He scrambled from his hard bed and 
pulled on his clothes—a new suit of corduroy. 
He laced his new boots. With his cap in 
his hand, he tiptoed down the tavern stairs, 
and in the pure joy of being alive, capered 
on the dewy turf that sloped down to the 
lake. 

On the white pebbles of the narrow beach 
he knelt and splashed water over his face. 

The great lake that stretched to the south 
had seemed weird and depressing when he 
had looked on it the evening before from the 
deck of the little steamer. One after the 
other, wooded headlands had notched them¬ 
selves together behind him, as the steamer 
plowed on toward the north. They seemed 
to be shutting him off from the world that 

40 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


4i 


he knew. Ahead lay only gray waters, the 
serried ranks of the “blackgrowth” crowding 
to the shore, and dim mountains that dis¬ 
puted the sky-line with the clouds. 

Hale threw his arms above his head, 
breathed in the fragrance of the balsam 
forest, and rejoiced when he made out the 
nick in the woods where the tote-road lead¬ 
ing north invited him toward his adventures. 

Between the shore and the deep water a 
long pier crossed the shallows of the lake. 
On this pier the steamer had left the freight 
of the night before. Hale ran out over the 
echoing boards, and among the boxes and 
barrels found his new canoe, swathed in 
burlap. 

With his knife he divested the canoe of its 
covering. The odor of new varnish was in 
his nostrils, and his eyes looked with pleasure 
on the shiny green canvas fresh from the 
painter, the ash thwarts, the cedar spreaders. 
He untied the paddles and tested them by 
balancing them one after the other in his 
hands—the long stern paddle of birch, the 
shorter bow paddle of ash. The setting-pole, 


42 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


varnished gloriously and copper-tipped, an¬ 
swered his thrust against the boards of the 
wharf with a lithe spring. Then he lifted 
the canoe by its thwarts and slid it over¬ 
board. The little waves dancing along its 
smooth sides welcomed it to its element. He 
stepped down into it, knelt well forward of 
the stern seat in order to trim it, and paddled 
ashore. If there had been happier moments 
in his life, he did not remember them just 
then. 

A short, stockily-built man, strolled down 
from the porch of the tavern to the beach, 
and looked with interest at the outfit when 
Hale gingerly drove the prow of the canoe 
upon the shingle. 

“Brand-new and a slick one!” remarked 
the stranger. 

Hale stepped over the side into the water, 
for he preferred to get his feet wet rather 
than to let the new paint be ground against 
the pebbles. 

“Might as well get in a few digs at the 
start and initiate it right,” suggested the on- 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


43 

looker. “Canoes aren’t made to store under 
a glass case.” 

“Perhaps not,” the young man answered, 
“but I think I’ll keep the rosettes off her as 
long as I can.” 

“If you’re going to carry her up to the 
tote-team, I’ll give you a hand.” 

They raised the canoe to their shoulders 
and marched to a great wagon in the stable- 
yard. Brackets extended from the side of 
the wagon. 

“Might as well load her,” suggested the 
stranger. They slid the canoe upon the 
brackets and lashed it with the ropes they 
found in the wagon. 

Hale would have remained there to ad¬ 
mire his new plaything if he had been alone, 
but the bystander stood grinning as he took 
in the general newness of the young man’s 
outfit. 

“Hurts ’em to be looked at too much when 
they’re first out of the burlap. Apt to crack 
the body paint,” he remarked, jocosely. 

Hale turned away and retreated to the 


44 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


porch of the tavern, a little nettled by the 
stranger’s humor. 

“How long are you going in for?” in¬ 
quired the man, who had followed. 

“I’ll not come out till snow falls—perhaps 
not then.” 

“Whew! Health? No, can’t be health. 
Say, if you want a guide, I can-” 

“I don’t want any guide. I am a forester 
for the Telos Company,” Hale explained. 

“Something new, isn’t it? I mean new for 
them.” 

“I believe it is.” 

“I’m going in for the T. C. myself,” said 
the stranger. “Cook, that’s my line. But 
I’d rather have a guiding job, of course, and 
that’s why I asked. So you’re going a-cali- 
pering for the T. C.? I don’t want to say 
anything against your line of work, but it’s 
reckoned up here that this forestry business 
is mostly fuss and fub, spiced up with guess¬ 
work, and baked in a quick school-oven 
down-country.” 

Hale laughed. 



LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


45 

“You know ‘Hammerhead’ Batterson, of 
course?” asked the cook. 

“Mr. John P. Batterson? I don’t know 
him personally. I only know he’s the woods’ 
boss for the Telos Company, and that I’m 
to report to him.” 

“Well, probably you’ll be all right, if you 
have your orders all written out plain enough 
for him to read ’em. But I’d like to see 
any other man walk up to ‘Hammerhead’ 
Batterson and say, ‘Excuse me, but I’ve come 
to hire out as a forester.’ I’ve heard him 
pass remarks on nearly every kind of a com¬ 
plication, but the forester business would 
start him off with some brand new material.” 

Hale laughed again, but he felt a little 
irritated. 

“My name is Doe,” continued the stranger. 
“Most people laugh when I tell them that— 
cook by the name of Doe! It’s-” 

“It is queer,” said Hale. “Now I’ll have 
to see to my bags.” He turned away, and 
busied himself in rearranging his possessions 
until the bell clanged for breakfast. 



46 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

The dozen guests of the tavern, woodsmen 
who had been Hale’s traveling companions 
on the lake steamer the day before, were at 
the tables. 

“No, he tells me he’s not,” said Mr. Doe, 
in perfectly audible tones, as Hale passed to 
his place. “Says he’s the new forester for 
the T. C. He’s going in to explain to ‘Ham¬ 
merhead’ Batterson how the old man needs a 
forester in his business!” 

“Remarks made by ‘Hammerhead’ on the 
subject might be interesting if listened to 
with a little cotton in the ears,” remarked 
another. 

“So I was explaining to what’s-his-name,” 
said Doe. 

The men fell into desultory discussion of 
Batterson’s probable views on forestry. Hale 
felt that the manners of the woods were a 
little too free and easy. He was therefore 
not in an amiable mood when he threw his 
bags on the tote-wagon after breakfast. He 
strode off alone for the four-mile tramp 
across the carry. 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 47 

But the first turn of the road took him out 
of sight of the woodsmen straggling behind, 
and his spirits at once improved. No one 
could look at smiling nature that day without 
smiling back. The earth was cool and damp 
under the trees. All the blissful savors of 
the forest swept across his nostrils on the 
balmy breeze, and the dim aisles to right 
and left were ringing with the lilting songs 
of birds. There was something thrilling in 
the thought that he was first on the road that 
morning. Each new vista was a delight. A 
doe and fawn faced him wild-eyed in the 
middle of the roadway. When they scam¬ 
pered away, a red squirrel scolded him volu¬ 
bly for intruding. 

As he walked on, he realized that he was 
at last in the land of the totem of the ham¬ 
merhead. He knew that that was the private 
mark of the Telos Company, the great syndi¬ 
cate of the north country. He saw it blazed 
here and there on wayside trees. A broken 
wagon, tilted in the gutter, displayed it. He 
had not known until that morning that John 


48 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

P. Batterson, the “boss,” was called “Ham¬ 
merhead.” It had rather a grim sound, that 
nickname. 

But he was not troubling himself about any 
possible ogres in the north country. 


CHAPTER Y 


At last the downward pitch of the road 
and the murmuring of waters warned Rich¬ 
ard that he was approaching the end of the 
carry, and he came to the river almost be¬ 
fore he had realized that the four miles were 
behind him. 

Here the mark of the “Hammerhead” was 
more obtrusive. Piles of boxes showed it. 
It was painted on canvas that covered hay 
and bags of grain. Bateaux were branded 
with it, and he saw it on old logs stranded 
here and there on the shoals. The thought 
that he was now a part of the great corpora¬ 
tion gave him a pleasant sense of importance. 
He sat down on a barrel and waited. 

Doe appeared first. 

“You are certainly some shakes at putting 
one foot before the other, young fellow,” he 
remarked. “You got away before I noticed, 
and I’ve been trying to catch up.” 

Hale made no reply. 

49 


So 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


Doe promptly interpreted this silence. “I 
reckon you’re a little fussed up at me,” he 
said, meekly. “I forgot that city chaps are 
a mite stiff, and don’t loosen up on first 
acquaintance as woods’ fellows do. I didn’t 
mean anything, Mr.—Mr.-” 

“Hale is my name.” 

“Not a thing disrespectful to you, Mr. 
Hale. I just get to talking, you know. 
Everybody knows Pete Doe up this way— 
always grabbing in. Can’t help it. I’m so 
willing to grab in to help a fellow that I 
forget, and grab in sometimes when I ain’t 
wanted.” 

It was a sincere attempt at apology, and 
Hale’s sourness vanished. He remembered 
the valiant way in which the little man had 
tugged in helping him with his canoe. 

He therefore smiled cordially, and assured 
him that he was sorry if he had shown any 
crustiness. 

Doe warmed under the smile, and pro¬ 
ceeded to be as entertaining as he knew how. 

He showed Hale the chief object of inter¬ 
est in the neighborhood, a gray and weather- 



LEADBETTER’S LUCK [51 

beaten human skull wedged into the crotch 
of an ancient ash-tree, and explained that it 
was the memorial of a river-driver who had 
been drowned on the rips, the dull rumble 
of which could be heard beyond the trees. 
He said that at least twenty other river-men 
had been drowned or crushed by logs in 
that dangerous part of the river, and nar¬ 
rated instances of death and hairbreadth 
escapes that fairly enthralled the listener. 

When the tote-wagon rumbled down the 
hill, right in the middle of an exciting tale 
of adventure, Doe rushed off with Hale and 
helped him lift down the new canoe, which 
he handled as carefully as if it had been a 
fragile egg-shell. 

After the duffel-bags had been loaded into 
the canoe, Doe stood on the bank, with a 
doleful expression on his face. 

“I’m sorry I can’t finish that last story, Mr. 
Hale—and I was leading up to one or two 
more specially good ones. But I see you’re 
going. I want to say again that it’s about as 
slick a canoe as ever kissed the water in these 
parts.” 


52 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


There was a hint in Doe’s words and a 
distinct appeal in his eyes. 

“How are you going to get up the river?” 
the young man asked. 

“Oh, I’ll have to go like the rest—in one 
of the bateaux,” sighed the cook with another 
wistful glance at the canoe, “pole till my 
eyes bulge and row like pulling parsnips out 
of frozen ground! They’re terrible things 
to get up-river in, Mr. Hale.” 

“As long as you and I are both going to 
Spectacle dam, what do you say to taking 
the bow paddle?” 

Doe stepped in and pushed off before he 
trusted himself to reply. When they were in 
the stream, he dipped his paddle deep, and 
said, feelingly, “Mr. Hale, you saved me 
from asking you a cheeky question. I’m 
much obliged to you!” 

The little man paid handsomely for his 
extra weight. He paddled the dead waters 
briskly; he knew the favoring eddies of the 
quick waters, and his fund of anecdote was 
inexhaustible. 

At noon they landed on a breezy point, 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


S 3 

and ate the luncheon that they had brought 
from the tavern. 

“This shows what a span can do when they 
don’t settle back into the breeching,” said 
Doe, as he looked at his battered silver 
watch. “We’ll be at Spectacle dam by the 
middle of the afternoon. The fellows be¬ 
hind in the bateaux are loaded to the gun¬ 
wale with freight. They’ll have to sleep out 
one night. ‘Hammerhead’ Batterson has got 
it down fine, hey?” 

It was the first time during the trip that 
he had mentioned the Telos Company or 
its boss. 

He continued: “‘Hammerhead’ has the 
main office send in his men in bunches, and 
makes them pole themselves up-river and 
bring along whatever freight is waiting at 
Skull-tree. Pay doesn’t begin till the men 
are in camp. It saves a tidy figure by the end 
of the year. He doesn’t hire any regular tot- 
ers until the men are all in—and then there 
isn’t much left to tote.” 

“That seems pretty small business for a 
big company like the Telos,” said Hale. 


54 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


“It might be—for the company! Maybe 
the toting is down on the bill that goes up 
to headquarters. Well, why shouldn’t it be? 
The T. C. expects to pay for getting its sup¬ 
plies in. But when the money comes back 
this way—why, ‘the autumn leaves are fall¬ 
ing, Bonnie dear!’ ” Doe concluded with a 
wink. 

“You don’t mean to tell me that—that any 
one collects toting fees from the company 
and pockets them?” 

“I don’t mean to tell anything. People 
say I tell too much. But I’m gradually 
breaking myself of talking. Well, what do 
you say about starting?” 

Hale wanted to ask more questions, but he 
disliked the idea of pumping Doe on a sub¬ 
ject that was really no business of his. Ac¬ 
cordingly, they paddled on in silence. 

After a while Doe remarked, blandly, 
“Maybe it’s all known at headquarters. 
Maybe it’s an understood thing. Perhaps 
they think that while a man is greasing his 
own tin a little, he’s frying a lot of fat for 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


55 

his company. Excuse the cooking language, 
Mr. Hale.” 

“Do you mean that any man up here is 
stealing from the company?” 

“I don’t mean anything. I’m gradually 
breaking off talking. It busts out once in a 
while, though.” 

“Well, I’m interested,” Hale said, frankly. 

“Of course. I can see you would be. Fact 
is, I’m thinking this forester game is only a 
bluff,” Mr. Doe declared. “The T. C. 
doesn’t need a forester. A forester couldn’t 
work with Batterson any more than vinegar 
is good flavoring for blanc-mange! I reckon 
the T. C. has put you up here to keep an 
eye on the game that’s being played. Maybe 
3^ou want to hire an assistant peeker who’s 
about my size.” Doe laid his paddle across 
the thwarts and turned a mild gaze of in¬ 
quiry on the young man in the stern. “Make 
it better than cook’s wages, and I’m with 
you!” 

“Look here, are you hinting that I’m a 
spy?” 


56 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

“I’m not hinting anything. But if you 
want a-” 

The indignation with which Hale broke 
in on him silenced Doe, even if it did not 
convince him. He began to paddle again, 
doggedly, and for the rest of the trip wore 
an injured air. 

The more Hale pondered the matter, the 
more unlikely did it seem that this garrulous 
busybody had any basis for his malicious 
hints. Doe was plainly a man with a 
grudge. 

By mid-afternoon the July day had be¬ 
come oppressive. There was no breeze, the 
sun shone fiercely on the open stretches of 
the river, and blue-black clouds in the west 
thrust puffy thunder-heads above the tree- 
tops. 

So Richard Hale’s first glimpse of the 
settlement at Spectacle dam cheered him. 
The river had been shoal for the last half- 
mile; its yellow waters had fretted past 
bowlders and stirred hollow echoes in the 
woods on either side. Hale had labored at 
the setting-pole, and declined Doe’s offer of 



LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


57 


assistance. It was hard work; and he viewed 
the shabby cluster of little houses that 
marked the end of his day’s journey with the 
satisfaction of a tired man who has put 
twenty-five miles of brisk paddling behind 
him since morning. 

From several bateaux men were unloading 
freight on the beach below the dam. These 
were the boats that had started from Skull- 
tree the previous day. A dozen or fifteen 
men were at work carrying boxes and barrels 
up the river-bank. 

After Hale, with the help of his compan¬ 
ion, had disposed of the canoe high up on 
the shore, he shouldered his duffel-bags, and 
climbed the trail behind Doe to the com¬ 
pany’s boarding-house. 

They came upon a scene of activity, and 
Hale set down his bags to look on. 

Several men were at work, some heaping 
boxes and barrels together, others getting 
tarpaulin ready to cover them. One such 
mound of freight had already been erected, 
and the canvas had been stretched and pegged 
securely to the ground. 


58 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

Barrels of kerosene had been rolled into 
a long trench, and toilers were busily shovel¬ 
ing dirt upon them. Doe told Hale that it 
was necessary to bury kerosene barrels in 
order to prevent the kerosene from evapo¬ 
rating. 

A number of jumpers—sleds built with 
broad shoes for use on bare ground—were 
loaded, and their burdens were securely 
lashed; then powerful horses dragged the 
sleds up the gullied tote-road that wound 
away among the trees. 

“Stacking the heavy stuff till it’s good 
slipping,” explained Doe. “But as fast as 
the woods teams are sent in, each one hauls 
enough general cargo to pay a profit on oats. 
And the little jinkus-bird sings as how the 
bills are all charged to the regular winter 
toting account! Twenty-five cents on every 
hundred pounds!” 

It occurred to Hale that this gossiper 
might be chattering in order to test a tender¬ 
foot’s gullibility, or in order to make trouble 
between the stockholders and Batterson for 
certain crafty reasons of his own. 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


59 


“I really think you do talk too much, if 
you’ll allow me to express a frank opinion,” 
Hale said. “I’ll merely ask you to be careful 
how you talk of my business up here. You 
understand perfectly well, don’t you, Mr. 
Doe, that I’m a forester, and nothing but a 
forester?” 

“That’s what you told me,” Doe admitted. 

“I told you the truth. If your imagination 
has made me out a spy for the Telos Com¬ 
pany I must warn you against letting that 
imagination work any longer.” 

Doe moved away a short distance. 

“It surely was a sore place I poked you 
on,” he said, with a wink that irritated Hale. 
“The way you jumped shows it. But if you 
want me to keep your secret, I’m the man to 
do it.” 

He went away, whistling, but turned sud¬ 
denly, and cried, “There is Batterson over 
there, Mr. Hale! Better tell him you’ve 
arrived! He may want some special forest¬ 
ing done right now in a hurry!” 


CHAPTER VI 


The man at whom Doe pointed stood on 
the heap of freight that had been covered 
with the tarpaulin. From this vantage- 
point he was directing the work of the men 
who were bringing up the freight for the 
other pile. His language was profane, and 
every time he glanced over his shoulder at 
the rolling clouds, he became more vo¬ 
ciferous. 

Hale decided that this must be John P, 
Batterson, the big “boss” for the Telos Com¬ 
pany. 

Among the woodsmen, with their belted 
wool jackets of varied hues, he was an in¬ 
congruous figure. He was tall and gaunt, 
wore a shiny and rumpled frock suit of black 
worsted, and, most singular touch of all, a 
white lawn tie that matched the roll of white 
beard under his chin. The rest of his face 

was smooth, and only the harsh lines that 

60 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


61 


pinched his mouth and his thin nose sug¬ 
gested the iron in his nature. Except for 
those lines and the language he was using at 
that moment, he might have seemed to the 
stranger the benevolent deacon of a country 
parish. 

“That’s Batterson,” Doe informed the 
young man, cautiously. “Looks something 
like an elder, doesn’t he? But he ain’t one. 
Oh, no! A man who dresses like that 
wouldn’t take a cent from the T. C., would 
he? Oh, no! I see you’re standing here 
thinking of how to put that forestry business 
of yours up to him. Well, now is your 
chance. He’s placed handy for you. Go out 
into the woods and cut battens and splice ’em 
to make a pole about half a mile long; then 
put the business up to him on the end of 
that! It will allow you start enough so that 
you can get away all safe!” 

Hale picked up his bags, brushed past 
Doe, and went to the boarding-house. 

Outside and in, it was a bare hulk. The 
big room had benches, or “deacon-seats,” 
round the walls; the air was musty with the 


62 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


smell of woolens that had been dried there 
winter after winter; the floor had been pitted 
by shoe calks until it was almost porous. 
Hale was glad that he was a forester, and 
had to stay only a short time in the place. 
The boarding-house keeper pointed out a 
closet in which he could stow his bags, and 
told him that the best accommodation he 
could have would be a bunk in the “ram- 
pasture,” as the big room upstairs was called. 

Hale sat down with as much patience as he 
could command, and waited. 

The blue-black curtain of storm-clouds 
had been drawn across the sun, and in the 
gloom flared sharp flashes of lightning. The 
strident voice of the boss sounded above the 
rumble of the thunder. Hale could see him 
on the top of the pile, swinging his long 
arms, making sure that the last box was 
stowed and the last peg driven into the tar¬ 
paulin before the shower broke. 

As the first fierce gust of the storm filled 
the air with light litter, the men came run¬ 
ning toward the boarding-house. They had 
finished their work. They clattered into the 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 63 

big room just as the rain began to come down 
in sheets. But Batterson, who followed, did 
not run. 

“It won’t hurt him to stay out, any more 
than it would a stone hitching-post,” said one 
of the first arrivals, looking back at the boss. 
“And if lightning happened to be fool enough 
to hit him, it would have to quit business till 
it had a new point filed on its stinger!” 

When Batterson came in, he took the only 
chair in the room; it had been left vacant as 
if it had been considered his by right. With¬ 
out paying any attention to the talk of the 
men, the lashing of the rain against the win¬ 
dows, the hooting of the wind or the splitting 
cracks of the thunder, he drew out a note¬ 
book, and twisting his neck to get a good 
light, began to figure. 

Hale reflected on what he had heard of the 
temper of Batterson, and decided that he 
would wait until the boss was alone before 
presenting himself and his letter. 

But he happened to glance at Doe. The 
little man was grimacing in a manner that 
plainly said, “You don’t dare to!” From 


64 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

what he knew of that busybody, Hale at once 
became fearful that Doe would blurt out 
some awkward remark. He did not choose 
to be introduced to Batterson in any such 
backhanded manner. Furthermore, Doe’s 
provoking grin put him on his mettle. 

He walked across the room and accosted 
Batterson. “I’m Richard Hale,” he said, 
when the boss stared up at him over his spec¬ 
tacles. “I think my uncle has already writ¬ 
ten in regard to me.” 

“I don’t read more than half the letters I 
get,” Batterson replied, sharply. “What can 
I do for you?” 

“Well, here is a letter that my uncle asked 
me to hand to you in person. He said woods’ 
mails were uncertain.” 

Batterson took the letter and glanced at 
the superscription carelessly. His whole air 
was indifferent almost to the point of insult. 

“My uncle is Weston Hale, one of the 
stockholders of the Telos Company,” con¬ 
tinued Hale, and his tone showed that he ex¬ 
pected to produce an impression. 

“Well, what of it? Don’t expect me to 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 65 

hug and kiss you because your uncle owns 
stock in this company, do you?” 

Loud laughter showed that the listeners 
appreciated the boss’s humor. 

“What’s your business up here?” de¬ 
manded Batterson. 

“I’ve come to do forestry work for the 
company. Here are my credentials.” 

“Forestry! They’ll be sending me book- 
agents and collectors for African missions 
and canvassers for ice-cream freezers next! 
What do you expect to do?” 

The men laughed again. 

“When you have time for an interview 
with me, Mr. Batterson, without making a 
joke of it, I’ll tell you what I expect to do,” 
Hale answered, sharply. “In the meantime 
will you please read that letter? Also my 
orders and credentials?” 

He turned away and walked to the door. 
The shower had passed, and the air outside 
was cool and fragrant. 

“Quite a wallop you hit him!” Doe whis¬ 
pered, as the young man passed him. “He 
ain’t used to back talk.” 


66 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


Hale took a long walk. He wished to be 
by himself and smooth his ruffled plumage. 

He heard the sound of the boarding-house 
supper-bell as he was coming into the clear¬ 
ing on his return, and he took his place at 
table with the others. All paid strict atten¬ 
tion to their plates. 

Batterson was the first at table, and the 
first to leave. He devoured his food as 
hastily as he transacted all his other business. 

When Hale appeared in the big room, Bat¬ 
terson caught his eye, and after several sig¬ 
nificant jerks of his head toward the door, he 
stamped out. Hale followed him—accept¬ 
ing the dumb show as an invitation. They 
walked over to a pile of freight and sat down 
on it. 

“Young man,” Batterson began, “your un¬ 
cle seems to have pull enough with the office 
to get you on the pay-roll of the T. C. as a 
forester. I don’t know what that means. 
Forestry for me means getting men and grub 
into the woods, and getting timber out and 
down to the sorting-boom ahead of the sum- 



“so that's it, 

TO PLASTER A 


IS IT? they’ve HAD THE IMPUDENCE 
SPY ON ME-AND YOU’RE THE SPY!” 





LEADBETTER’S LUCK 67 

mer low water. I haven’t heard any hint 
from the company that I’m not fully capable 
of attending to that branch of forestry. I don’t 
understand, do I, that you’re up here to in¬ 
terfere with my end of the thing?” 

“Certainly I’m not here to interfere with 
you,” said the young man. “I did not use 
my uncle’s ‘pull,’ as you call it. I explained 
my plans of work to the directors, and they 
thought favorably of the idea. Of course, 
it’s largely experimental, but-” 

“That’s right, young man; what a green¬ 
horn like you can do here in these woods 
would be experiment!” broke in Batterson, 
with a sneering laugh. 

“But it’s experiment that means something, 
sir! The T. C. people know that there has 
been a great waste on their operations.” 
Batterson leaped up. 

He shook his long finger angrily under 
Hale’s nose. 

“So that’s it, is it? They’ve had the impu¬ 
dence to plaster a spy on me—and you’re 
the spy! And you sit there and tell me so! 



68 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


I had you spotted all right, young man. But 
I didn’t think you had the cheek to own up 
to it!” 

“Own up to what?” demanded Hale. “I’m 
simply telling you what every one knows of 
lumbering operations in these days. I’m not 
criticizing you, Mr. Batterson. I’m talking 
of the old methods. I say that the right sys¬ 
tem isn’t being used. Tracts are not thinned 
properly, trees are cut without any regard to 
leaving windbreaks, future growth is 
not-” 

“That’s your book twaddle—I know all 
about it!” broke in the boss. “But don’t try 
to fool me about what you’re up here for— 
I’m too old a bird! Waste, hey? Who is 
the man that dares accuse me of taking a 
dollar out of the T. C.? I’m saving money 
for ’em every year. There are lots of liars 
in these woods. I know ’em! They’ve been 
lugging down stories about me. Let’s you 
and me have an understanding right at the 
start, young man. I’ve sweated and saved 
and slaved for the T. C. a good many years. 
Any time they don’t want me they’ve only 



LEADBETTER’S LUCK 69 

got to say so. You can write that to your 
uncle, or to anybody else. But you’d better 
write ’em also that when they sent you here 
to spy on me you were undertaking too dan¬ 
gerous a job to stick to!” 

Hale met the angry gaze as calmly as 
mingled astonishment and offended inno¬ 
cence would allow. Uncle Weston’s well- 
meant efforts had hurt, not helped, so it now 
appeared. 

“Hold on, sir!” he cried. “When you call 
me a spy you insult me. And why do you 
think the Telos Company would insult you 
by sending a spy here?” 

Batterson blinked, and began to scratch the 
roll of his chin beard. 

“I’m here on forestry work, ordered to re¬ 
port to you—and I’ve reported. No other 
matter concerns me. You have my creden¬ 
tials. I’m ready to take the field and attend 
strictly to the business I’m here for. If you 
don’t put me into the field, I’ll be obliged to 
find out the reason for it. I’ll have to be a 
spy to that extent, at least!” 

Batterson saw that he had not the ordinary 



70 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


kind of “tenderfoot” to deal with. It was at 
once plain that he wished to retreat from a 
rather uncomfortable position. 

“I reckon I’ve been a little hasty, Mr. 
Hale,” he said. “But the business I'm in 
makes a man’s disposition mighty touchy. 
I get used to barking at men. I forget some¬ 
times. What do you want me to do for you 
—tell off some men to go with you?” 

“Not till I am ready to begin detail 
work,” said Hale. “I should like to put in 
considerable time on a general survey. If 
you are sending out explorers for regular 
work, I’ll go along with them for the sake 
of having guides and company. I’ll not in¬ 
terfere with them. I’ll keep my work sep¬ 
arate and independent.” 

“Nothing to object to in that,” returned 
Batterson. “I’m starting two explorers to¬ 
morrow. You can go with them.” 

Hale went into the boarding-house and 
tucked himself into his bunk. The red had 
hardly faded from the western sky, but he 
had had a long and lively day. 


CHAPTER VII 


Richard was up at dawn, fresh, clear¬ 
eyed, and hopeful once more. 

When he entered the big room, he found 
that Doe had got up before him. 

“I hear you’re going a-calipering, all so 
bright and gay!” the cook exclaimed. But 
Hale was in no mood for chaff from his 
traveling companion of the day before. 

“Mr. Doe, I have pretty good reason for 
believing that you have been spreading your 
ideas about my being a spy for the T. C. 
It is making trouble for me. What do you 
mean by letting your tongue run away with 
you in such fashion?” 

“I reckon it’s my one particular failing,” 
confessed Doe. 

“Yesterday you were just as ready to drop 
remarks to me in regard to Mr. Batterson’s 
management of affairs for the company.” 

“Calling no names,” insisted Doe. He 

71 


72 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


bridled somewhat, for Hale’s eyes were ac¬ 
cusing and expressed some disgust. “I ain’t 
defending my sticking my nose in where it 
doesn’t belong, but I reckoned it was about 
time for some one to do it in the interests of 
the T. C., and it struck me you might be the 
man. If you ain’t the man, then no more 
need be said. But knowing what I know 
and expecting what I expect, your forester 
story sounded fishy. And if I’m any judge, 
it sounded just as fishy to John P. Batter- 
son.” 

“I think the way he treated me before the 
crew last night was due wholly to the effect 
of your foolish gossip, Doe,” replied Hale. 
“I haven’t come up here to quarrel. I have 
business to attend to—my way to make in 
life. I know you don’t want to hurt me. 
Probably you mean well enough—whatever 
it is you are trying to get at. But I’m not 
interested in anything between Mr. Batter- 
son and the company. I’ve explained that to 
you carefully. Now will you keep your 
mouth closed about it?” 

“So far as human nature will allow, it will 



LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


73 


be closed,” Doe said, without resentment. 
“I was only going to say that since you are 
starting away, I’ll stow your canoe in the 
lean-to, and keep an eye on it. I’m ordered 
to stay here as cook.” 

Once more the little man’s generosity ban¬ 
ished Hale’s ill humor. 

“Let me tell you something,” Doe added. 
“You’re going into the woods with ‘Straddler’ 
Corrison and ‘Sawed-off’ Dumphy. Old Bat- 
terson has picked hot company for you! Look 
out for them! When it comes to hiking, one 
is a giraffe and the other is a fox—and both 
of ’em are built on the camel plan. They 
only eat when they can’t think of anything 
else to do. Being a cook myself, I don’t 
like that kind of disposition. I think that 
‘Hammerhead’ has picked that pair so as to 
make you sick of your job. All I say is, 
you’ve got your work cut out for you.” 

Other men came into the room, and Doe 
ceased his confidences, but all through break¬ 
fast he gazed pityingly on Hale; now and 
then he shifted his glances to two men who 
sat side by side at one of the tables. 



74 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


Hale followed the direction of the cook’s 
glance. One of the men was strikingly tall, 
with a freckled face and red hair. His com¬ 
panion was short and slender; his bullet¬ 
shaped head was close-cropped, and his 
round eyes were set close to a nose that 
looked not unlike a parrot’s beak. Doe’s 
meaning was unmistakable. Those were the 
explorers. 

After breakfast Batterson brought them to 
him in the yard of the boarding-house, and 
went away as soon as he had pronounced 
their names. It seemed to Hale that his new 
friends did not regard him with much favor. 

“We’re ready as soon as you be,” said the 
tall man. 

“But tell me how long we are to be gone, 
and what I shall carry for clothes and food,” 
said Hale. “I’ll be honest and say that a 
timber-cruising trip is new to me.” 

The tall man grinned down grimly upon 
the little one, who glanced quizzically up at 
him. 

“As for clothes,” said the tall man, “I’ve 
got mine on, and so has Pete. Here’s my 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


75 


grub.” He patted a lump that was knotted 
into the end of a meal-sack—a lump not 
larger than a man’s head. “Pete has got his 
stowed away in his pockets. We’ll be gone 
two weeks, maybe.” 

“Two weeks, with no more food than 
that!” 

“Oh, we’ll fetch a T. C. lumber-camp here 
and there, part of the time. But I reckon it’s 
as you say—you ain’t used to timber-explor¬ 
ing. A man who lugged more than we’ve 
got would be laughed at!” 

Hale stared at them and turned away. I’ll 
be with you in a few minutes,” he said. In 
the big room he met Doe. 

“Go out into the kitchen and put me up 
what I ought to carry in the way of grub,” 
he pleaded. “I don’t know anything about 
what I ought to take.” 

“The secret is in taking mighty little,” Doe 
declared. “The way they go exploring in 
these woods would make old Doctor What’s- 
his-name and his forty days’ fast look like 
Thanksgiving. But I’ll fix you out some¬ 
how.” 


76 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

Hale packed his knapsack from his duffel- 
bag. 

“I wouldn’t,” Doe advised, when he re¬ 
turned with a package of food. 

Hale, on his knees beside the bag, looked 
up at him. 

“Looks as if you were packing for a season 
at the seashore, instead of an exploring trip 
with those two strammers out there,” ob¬ 
served the cook. 

“But I’m taking only a change of clean 
clothes and my toilet things. A man has to 
have those.” 

“Has he?” Doe exclaimed. “Look at 
those two! Starting off as they stand, as care¬ 
less as a couple of bull moose! They 
wouldn’t know what to do with clothes any 
more than a moose would—and they’ve been 
exploring a good many years. They don’t 
have to have clean clothes and toilet articles. 
If you lug all that stuff, you won’t have 
room for this grub, and you’ll find grub 
handier than toilet articles.” 

Hale sighed, and jettisoned more cargo; 
before Doe’s arrival he had already reduced 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


77 


his first estimates by a half. When he had 
packed his scantily furnished bag and swung 
it on his back, he felt apprehensive; he was 
setting out into a roofless wilderness without 
almost everything that he was accustomed to 
think indispensable to bare existence. 

Doe stood behind him and shook the bag 
to make sure that the contents were well 
settled. 

“A bit too much of a load even now,” he 
commented. “You’re off with a pair who 
are tough on the hoof. Look out for ’em! I 
wouldn’t wonder a mite if ‘Hammerhead’ had 
offered ’em extra pay for tuckering you. 
Look out for ’em! They ain’t putting up 
any job to encourage foresters in these parts.” 

The two explorers started away when they 
saw Hale step from the door. With a few 
rapid strides he was at their heels, and the 
three swung into the forest. 


CHAPTER VIII 


As timber-explorers, headed for a distant 
tract of “black-growth,” as the heavy timber 
is called, Elijah Corrison and Peter Dumphy 
plainly believed that their sole duty was to 
keep moving. Since Hale’s duty took him to 
that same tract, it was incumbent upon him 
to keep up with them. 

By dint of questions that he asked during 
the first few minutes of their journey, he 
found that the township to which they were 
bound lay several days’ journey to the north. 
From the first, Doe’s disheartening predic¬ 
tions that he would have “his work cut out 
for him” were fully realized. 

Corrison was a rangy walker. He did not 
seem to hurry; he had the woodsman’s 
slouchy swing, and seemed to let himself 
“fall along.” The “tenderfoot” who tries 
to follow such a gait finds himself trotting 
half the time, and wondering how the man in 
front manages to get ahead so fast. 

78 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


79 


Dumphy pattered along with a hop and 
skip that took him over the ground with sur¬ 
prising speed. Hale, of sturdier bulk, found 
it impossible to imitate either of the men. 

The first two miles led along low ground 
near the lake. Corduroy, or road made of 
logs laid side by side, alternated with rutted 
mud wallows, filled by the shower of the 
preceding afternoon. Corrison stalked across 
the logs and through the mud with the ease 
of a crane. Dumphy skimmed along with 
robin-like hops. Hale found it hard work. 
The logs were slippery, and in places were 
afloat. He tried to preserve his new boots 
from too thorough a baptism in mud, and his 
efforts tired him. 

When the party came upon higher ground, 
Corrison led the way off the tote-road by a 
trail familiar to him. This tortuous travel¬ 
ing was even worse for Hale. The woods 
were wet. The stones underfoot were slip¬ 
pery. Bushes lashed his face when he stum¬ 
bled, and twigs caught at the straps of his 
knapsack. The day was hot, and in the shade 
of the trees the air was humid. Perspiration 


8 o 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


rained down his face, and black-flies, the 
pests of the summer woods, tormented him. 

The two explorers strode along; they were 
hardened to the trail, and their feet were ac¬ 
customed to the inequalities of the ground. 
The flies seemed unable to sting their lea¬ 
thery faces. 

If you can take a forest trail leisurely, with 
inclination and time to search the woodland 
aisles for beauties of light and shade, you 
will find much delight. But the traveler 
who plunges through at the heels of men who 
are in a desperate hurry, finds desolate mono¬ 
tony in unending slope, ridge and valley. 

The only stops were brief halts at brooks 
here and there. The men drank, and tramped 
on again. 

Hale noticed that most of the time his 
companions were munching something, and 
that they constantly dipped their hands into 
their pockets. Toward noon, watching them 
eat made him hungry. He asked if it were 
not about time to stop for luncheon. 

“Pete and I hardly ever hang up for noon- 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 81 

in’s,” Corrison informed him. “We just 
stoke up on raisins and keep humping it.” 

“Is that what you’ve been eating—raisins?” 

“Sure thing! Better than turkey and mince 
pie. I’ve been on a hike for a week, and 
haven’t eaten much of anything else. Saves 
time, cooking, and wear and tear on your 
back. The more stuff you lug, the hungrier 
you get.” 

“Eat raisins on a trip, and peel off about 
twenty pounds of that beef you’re lugging,” 
suggested Dumphy, and he looked over his 
thin shoulder at Hale’s stalwart figure. 
“Then you’ll feel better fitted for this kind 
of work.” 

With new light on the customs of explorers 
in the north woods, Hale kept pace with his 
guides. He managed to slip off the straps of 
his knapsack, swing it before him, and dig 
out some hardbread; he lacked courage to 
ask these human steam-engines to stop and 
allow him to eat luncheon. He munched 
as he walked, and managed to dull some of 
the pangs of his hunger. 

After Hale had studied “Straddler” Corri- 


82 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


son for some time he modified his stiff¬ 
legged gait. He imitated the loose-jointed 
shamble and by setting his feet as nearly as 
he could in Corrison’s footprints, soon found 
that walking was much easier. 

But it seemed that the long afternoon 
would never end. His companions marched 
on until the sun was below the spruce ridges 
and the dusk had settled among the trees. 
Then they drank at a brook, found a spot 
where the ground was soft and thickly sprin¬ 
kled with pine spills, and sat down with 
their backs against a tree. Corrison explored 
the depths of his sack, and produced a sort 
of sandwich. Dumphy found similar food 
in one of the bulging pockets of his jacket. 

Hale posted himself under a tree near by, 
and dug into his own pack. He found cold 
meat to go with his hardbread, and began his 
frugal meal. 

“Rather high living for a timber-explorer, 
hey?” said Dumphy to Corrison, as he gazed 
at Hale’s cold meat. 

The young man noticed then that their 
sandwiches had raw salt pork for filling. 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 83 

“Don’t you ever build a fire on these 
trips?” he asked. He had just discovered a 
little packet of tea in his kit. 

“What do you want a fire for?” asked 
Dumphy. “To scare away witherlicks?” 

“Well, for your pork, there, if for nothing 
else.” 

“You’d frizzle out half the goodness, 
would you? That’s your idea of economy in 
the woods. Say, young fellow, your notions 
of eating are too high. You ought to have 
brought along a load of grub on a wheel¬ 
barrow!” 

Hale did not reply. The topic of food 
did not seem to be a profitable one. 

“Say, what is your job up here, anyway?” 
Corrison asked, after a time. 

“Forestry,” Hale answered. 

“What is forestry?” 

“When I get settled to my regular work, 
I shall select sample tracts, measure them, 
plot them, list the various trees and the state 
of growth, the soil and the natural advan¬ 
tages and disadvantages from the lumber¬ 
man’s point of view, and file the records for 


84 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

Comparison later. Then, from year to year, 
we can study the effects of thinning, of prun¬ 
ing—we can arrange to give spruces the 
shade they want and encourage the firs by 
sunlight and-” 

“From year to year!” broke in Dumphy. 
“How long is it going to take you to get so 
that you will know what you’re doing?” 

“Fifty years, perhaps,” said Hale. “That 
is to say, in order to lay out-” 

Both men laughed. 

“Fifty years!” cried Dumphy. “Why, 
Lige, in two weeks you and me can locate a 
season’s operation—on raisins, hardtack, and 
raw pork!” 

“Yes, timber-cruisers can rush through the 
woods and show men where to slash and 
hack and slaughter whole tracts,” retorted 
Hale. “Perhaps they won’t even leave a 
windbreak or trees enough for reseeding. 
And where such men have lumbered, the 
tract is ruined land.” 

“Well, they get the lumber off—and that’s 
what we’re up here for.” 

“Yes, they get it off, and it stays off. Look 





LEADBETTER’S LUCK 85 

here, the Telos Company is logging for the 
big pulp-mills. The mills are down-river, 
built permanently on water-powers; there’s 
a million dollars or more invested in each 
plant. You can’t pick them up under your 
arm and set them down somewhere else when 
the timber is exhausted up here. They’re not 
portable sawmills. It used to be just a head¬ 
long hunt for sawlogs, but from this time on 
we have got to look ahead. And fifty years 
is a short time wdien it’s a matter of forest 
trees. It’s a different matter from managing 
a vegetable-garden.” 

But Corrison and Dumphy yawned loud¬ 
ly, and with unmistakable significance. Then 
they pulled their hats over their eyes and 
settled themselves against the tree trunk. 

“The man who put that into a book may 
think it’s important,” remarked Corrison, 
from under the edge of his hat. “But it 
hasn’t anything to do with my business and 
Pete Dumphy’s. Our business is to get forty 
winks and be up at daylight and on our way 
north to Township Twenty-seven. And if 
you propose to go along and keep up with 


86 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


us,—whatever it is you’re going in for I 
don’t know,—you’d better get to sleep.” 

Corrison and Dumphy began to snore with 
a comfortable rhythm; they felt perfectly 
at home. But a sense of loneliness came 
over Hale, and kept his eyelids wide apart. 
For the first time in his life he was lying un¬ 
der the wide heavens. Instinctively he 
reached for the bed coverings as he 
(lay down, and then realized that he had not 
even a blanket. 

Three meals a day at table and a bed at 
night have become so much second nature 
with the human animal that in order to un¬ 
derstand the part they play in life, a person 
must feel the shock of being without them. 

When Richard Hale dozed at last, in spite 
of the thrustings of hidden roots beneath him, 
strange sounds brought him wide-awake. 
Rabbits scampered, and beat the ground im¬ 
patiently near at hand. Queer wailings 
echoed from different points in the woods. A 
deer thrashed through a thicket, got the 
scent of the little group of men, stamped, 
whistled, and fled. 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 87 

Hale understood most of the sounds, but 
ithat did not make them the less disquieting. 
The mystical spell of the night woods was 
over all; the forest seemed to be some living 
thing, some monster that sighed and 
breathed. 

When he did sleep, it was with the pros¬ 
tration of weariness, and it required a vigor¬ 
ous shake by Corrison’s none too gentle hand 
to waken him. He made his way to the 
brook, cramped, stiff and chilled, and was 
not himself until he had plunged his head 
into the cool water. 


CHAPTER IX 


The sun was not up, and the dawn was 
merely a red smear in the east when they 
were again on their way. That day was a 
repetition of the day before: trails, tote- 
roads, rocky hills, marshy wallows, and oc¬ 
casionally a mile or two of forest choked by 
the slash of a winter’s wasteful lumbering. 
Tops of trees lay sprawled in every direc¬ 
tion, and it was necessary to adopt the form 
of travel known in the woods as “hedge¬ 
hogging”—dodging here and there, strad¬ 
dling prostrate trunks, and forcing a way 
through the littel of lopped branches. Cor- 
rison and Dumphy plunged on through these 
cut-over tracts, keeping to the trail as close 
as they could in order to make a straight line 
of the march. But the toil of following these 
two hardened woodsmen was the most ardu¬ 
ous Hale had ever engaged in. 

He was not without the suspicion that they 

88 


J 



LEADBETTER’S LUCK 89 

were making it as hard as possible for him. 
Once or twice, after he had caught his foot 
and fallen heavily, he saw the flicker of a 
malicious grin. But although his feet seemed 
to weigh like lead and his muscles ached as 
he labored on, he kept up with them, with 
grim resolve in his face. 

Late that afternoon they reached one of 
the Telos Company’s camps. Hale ate his 
supper in almost a stupor of exhaustion, and 
tumbled into the bunk that the camp cook 
pointed out to him. 

His tormenters were astir early, and he 
was on the trail with them at gray dawn. A 
drizzling rain-storm had set in. He had 
noticed before that there are men who do not 
seem to get wet when the rain pelts on them. 
Such were Dumphy and Corrison. As for 
himself, his clothes were soon soggy, and he 
was supremely miserable. 

That day and the following night nearly 
exhausted his strength, although he would 
not admit that his courage was daunted. The 
shelter for the night was a dismantled horse 
“hovel,” the only structure remaining out of 


90 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


a set of camps. When he laughingly re¬ 
marked that he expected nothing less than 
pneumonia and rheumatic fever to follow 
that night’s experience, his companions scorn¬ 
fully assured him that if you remain in wet 
clothes until they dry, you never catch cold. 
They cited the case of river-drivers in the 
ice-water of April, and made some caustic 
comments on the nature of tenderfeet who 
growled about a warm shower in July. Then 
they went to sleep. For Hale it was a night 
of misery, intensified, if anything, by fitful 
slumber. 

In spite of his conviction that his muscles 
were tied into hard knots, he was glad to be 
on the trail again the next morning. Even 
that racking labor was better than listening to 
the drip of cold rain and the snores of the 
iron men whom weather did not seem to 
affect. 

There was peculiar loneliness in the ex¬ 
perience he was having. After his one dis¬ 
astrous attempt at conversation, there had 
been no talk between him and his guides, 
except a few rather surly remarks. Corrison 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


9i 


and Dumphy did not even talk to each other. 
They munched their raisins, slept, and 
walked—walked like automatons. 

On this third day they reached the edge of 
the timber tract that they had come to ex¬ 
plore; the toil of travel was redoubled for 
Hale. The explorers abandoned the trails 
and thrust themselves straight into the heart 
of the forest. They threaded valleys, passed 
over rocks and roots, and through witch- 
hobble and moosewood. Here and there they 
blazed trees with their hatchets to mark the 
way for the swampers, the road-builders and 
the log-yards. They doomed virgin tracts to 
slaughter with vicious flicks of their weapons 
until Hale bethought himself that he was the 
accredited forester of the Telos Company, 
and burst out into protest. 

That protest had been seething within him 
all the afternoon while he had followed them 
about. But Corrison and Dumphy had been 
too brisk and elusive to be cornered for a 
talk while they were at work. 

It was at the evening meal, high on a ridge 
overlooking some of the best timber, that 


92 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


Hale broke in on their calculations regard¬ 
ing the probable stumpage yield. 

“I tell you/’ he cried, with a tired man’s 
strained temper in his tones, “that tract is not 
going to be cut in any such fashion!” 

The two looked at him. Then they stared 
at each other. Finally they exchanged winks. 

“Let’s see,” drawled Corrison, “what was 
the remark?” 

“I say that cleaning off land in the way 
you’re planning to do, not leaving trees to 
bind the soil on these slopes, means that the 
township will not be worth ten cents after 
this season’s operation. I’ll not see the prop¬ 
erty of the Telos Company butchered in any 
such fashion. I wouldn’t be earning my 
wages if I stood by and saw it done.” 

“Let’s see,” pursued Corrison, with the 
same satirical drawl, “who has been sent up 
here to locate the cuttings—you or us?” 

“This system of lumbering, as you explor¬ 
ers practise it,” said Hale, pricked to further 
anger by the sarcasm, “is robbing the com¬ 
pany of good property every year, and as 



LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


93 


forester, I don’t propose to see it done. If 
you want the reasons why I’m sent up here, 
that’s one of the reasons—to see that the 
future isn’t sacrificed for the sake of one sea¬ 
son’s blundering operations.” 

“John P. Batterson hinted that you had 
been sent up here to peek around and make 
trouble for sensible men,” said Dumphy. 
“And I see that John P. Batterson was right, 
as he most generally is. But let me tell you 
that me and Lige Corrison was exploring 
timber lands when you were lapping striped 
candy in the cradle. And we propose to keep 
on exploring timber lands, according to 
orders. And having our orders for the job 
we’re on now, we’ll inform you that if you 
get under our feet you’ll get stepped on.” 

“I’m giving you fair warning that I shall 
report this plan you are laying out, and shall 
tell the Telos people that you are wasting 
their property,” insisted Hale. “If I’m sent 
up here for anything, I’m sent here for that.” 

“You’ll be a nice, pleasant companion to 
have along—bothering men who have real 


94 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


business to attend to, just as John P. Batter- 
son told us you would be!” snarled Corrison. 

Hale’s anger overcame his prudence. 

“After the way you have raged through 
these woods for the past few days,” he cried, 
“and now from what you say of Batterson, I 
think my suspicions are about right! You 
got instructions either to tire me out and send 
me back sick of my job, to be reported as a 
quitter by Batterson, or else you were told to 
lose me!” 

“A nice cry-baby we seem to have got 
plastered onto us, Lige,” remarked Dumphy. 
“We’d better pull straws to see which one 
of us has to sit up with him to-night. This is 
a fine fix for a couple of busy men to be in.” 

They withdrew to a tree at a distance, and 
settled down for the night. 

Hale was left with bitter thoughts that 
kept him long awake. He had come with 
the understanding that his work was to be 
experimental, but he had expected some con¬ 
sideration at the hands of the Telos field- 
. workers. The open flouting of his coopera¬ 
tion indicated that he was mistaken. He be- 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


95 


gan to wonder how long Batterson would 
persist in his opposition to modern forestry. 

Hale saw plainly that he could not accom¬ 
plish anything during this hit-or-miss scurry¬ 
ing through the woods. It was apparent that 
Corrison and Dumphy would pay no atten¬ 
tion to any advice that he might give them. 
iWhen at last his weariness of mind and body 
overcame him, he slept well, for the day had 
been hot after the rain, and the night was 
warm. 

He slept too well. When he awoke, he was 
alone on the ridge. The sun was up, and 
there were no signs of his companions. But 
he did see a slip of paper—a page from a 
note-book—in a cleft twig that had been stuck 
in the ground at his feet. It read: 

Your business don’t seem to be in our line. Attend 
to your business now you’re here and we’ll attend to ours. 
And keep out from under our feet. 

Yours respectfully, 

Corrison and Dumphy 

They had coolly abandoned him in the wil¬ 
derness. 



96 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

As best he could, he pondered on his situa¬ 
tion. Corrison and Dumphy had taken him 
through country without trails or tote-roads. 
They had doubled and turned and crossed 
their track in the search for timber. He had 
followed without paying any attention to the 
course; he had directed his whole energy to 
keeping up with them. 


CHAPTER X 


I 


IN a vague way Hale knew that there 
were camps of the Telos Company some¬ 
where in the region. But as there was no 
trail to show him in what direction lay a 
camp, he was helpless. His school field¬ 
work had made him sensible of the dangers 
that beset any one who becomes utterly lost 
in the woods. 

Overcoming his dismay, he set his eyes 
on the sun, and resolved to keep his head, 
whatever happened. The wretches who had 
abandoned him had hinted at their defense in 
the note they had left. They could say that 
their orders were to put him on a timber 
tract. They could absolve themselves from 
blame by pointing out that a forester for the 
Telos Company should not require constant 
guardians. 

In this wicked business Hale could see the 
hand of John P. Batterson. Plainly Batter- 
son still believed that he was dealing with a 

97 


98 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

spy who threatened his position and his 
pocket-book. 

Hale ate a frugal breakfast, swung his 
knapsack to his back, and started. His com¬ 
pass was of little use, for all directions were 
alike, so far as the existence of camps went. 
And on finding a camp lay his only hope. 

He marked a distant depression among the 
trees, and took his course for that, in the 
hope that he might come upon a water¬ 
course. In a lumbering region watercourses 
usually lead to tote-roads or to “ramdowns,” 
and these, in turn, point the way to camps. 

He was in a part of the country that 
seemed to have no trails. Its lack of streams 
had made it inaccessible to lumbermen until 
the demands of the forest butchers had com¬ 
pelled them to resort to such solitudes for 
standing timber. 

Ten minutes after leaving the ridge, Hale 
was in the dim depths under the big trees; 
only the downward slope of the ground as¬ 
sured him that the way he was going must be 
the right way to the thread of water that 
might lead him out of the maze. 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


99 


The watercourse that he finally reached 
led him to a pond, but the pond promised 
nothing. The woods crowded to the edge of 
the water. He had found no trails, and the 
stretch of shore that he could command from 
the end of the little promontory to which he 
worked his way through the undergrowth 
showed no sign of a clearing. His compass 
and the top tassels of the spruces pointed the 
way to the south, but he was not certain that 
the drainage of the basin led that way. 

He ate a meager luncheon, sitting on a 
bowlder that was lapped by the sparkling 
waves. But he was so lonely and worried 
that he did not enjoy the charm of the place. 
A meditative fox that strolled along a log 
across a near-by cove, and a mink that 
slipped past him, followed by her little ones, 
gave him a hint that in this spot human 
beings rarely intruded on nature. 

Hale decided to follow the shore of the 
pond in search of an outlet. When he had 
walked half a mile, he saw something that 
startled him. 

A man was seated on a fallen log, intent 


IOO 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


on something that he held in his open hand. 
He was an elderly man. His clothes marked 
him unmistakably as a woodsman—not a so¬ 
journer, but a dweller in the woods. 

He did not start when Hale walked up to 
him. He looked up in quite a matter-of-fact 
way, greeted the stranger, and glanced in 
the direction from which he had come. 

“Guide coming with the packs, I reckon?” 
he said, after another look at the young 
man’s attire. 

“I’m not a sportsman,” the young man re¬ 
plied. “I’m a forester for the Telos Com¬ 
pany. I’m alone—that is, I’m alone now.” 

He sat down on the log, near enough to 
examine what the man held in his hand. It 
was a small wooden box, with a hole in its 
side the size of a ten-cent piece. 

“A bee tole,” the owner explained, when 
he became aware of his visitor’s interest. 
“The first chap has just been here and taken 
away his load. He’ll be back with a friend 
in a little while.” 

Hale saw something that interested him 
still more. A small coil of cord was on the 



LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


IOI 


log by the man’s side. With slow jerks the 
cord was slipping off the coil, and was being 
drawn into a hole under the log. 

“It’s only Moses,” said the man, smiling 
at Hale’s astonished stare. “Might as well 
have two irons in the fire at once; that’s the 
way I figure.” 

When Hale began to ask questions, the 
stranger set down his box, and pulling on 
the cord, drew it in slowly, hand over hand. 

“I reckon I’ll have Moses out of there. 
Our talk has made it too lively round here. 
They’d stay there and smother before they’d 
take chances outside. Another day will do 
just as well for me.” 

Hale watched the cavity from which the 
cord was issuing with little hitches. The 
object at the end proved to be a mud-turtle. 
One end of a piece of wire was twisted into 
a hole in the edge of the turtle’s shell; at 
the other end was a little tin box, and from 
this smoke was curling through holes that 
had been punched in it. 

“That’s a smudge made of dry fungus,” 
explained the owner of the turtle. “I hitch 


102 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


it to Moses and start him into a fox hole, and 
if there are youngsters in there and every¬ 
thing is nice and quiet outside, why, pop 
goes the fox! A snare at the edge of the 
hole, and you have them! I reckon there 
are young foxes in this den. But I’ll get ’em 
later. I’ve got an order from a man down- 
country for a pair. He wants them to put in 
his store window. They tell me that the 
folks crowd round to see them.” 

“I’m sorry I’ve bothered you,” said Hale. 

“You haven’t bothered me. The way I’m 
fixed now I have plenty of time.” 

He sighed, and picked up his wooden box. 
A bee had alighted on it. Another was 
hovering, ready to alight. 

“See the dust of flour on his leg?” asked 
the man. “I popped it on him when he was 
here before. Anise and sugar in the box— 
that’s what toles them. He found a prize, 
and now he brings back a friend. That’s 
the friend, the one without any flour. I 
suppose you know all about lining bees?” 

“I don’t know anything about it.” 

“Well, I watch the chap with flour on 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


103 


him and time him on his trip. Get his line 
and work up on it, and time him again. 
When I think F m pretty near the tree, I 
move to the right or the left, tole another bee, 
line him and find where the lines intersect— 
and there’s your tree!” 

When the bees had loaded up and gone, 
Hale and his new acquaintance followed the 
line of their flight. 

“If you are not too busy,” Hale said, 
when they were once more seated, waiting for 
the bees, “I’d like to hire you to guide me 
out of these woods. I’ll confess frankly that 
I’m lost.” 

“I have time enough.” The man’s tone 
was somewhat doleful; there was a hint in it 
that he had more time than he needed. “If 
you’ve been in these woods any length of 
time you may have heard of me. My name 
is Leadbetter. But if any one has ever said 
anything to you about me, they’ve most likely 
called me ‘Hard-Luck Anse.’ I reckon I’ve 
earned the name all right!” 

“I’m new up here; I have never heard of 


104 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


you,” Hale informed him. He looked at the 
man with fresh interest. 

“Where do you want to go?” asked Lead- 
better. 

It was a question that made Hale view his 
predicament in a new light. 

Where did he want to go? 

Certainly not back to Spectacle dam, to 
meet the sneers of John P. Batterson! If 
Hale were to return without having accom¬ 
plished anything, the report of his first week 
of forestry work for the Telos Company 
would not impress the directors with his 
fitness. 

Yet what could he accomplish, dropped in 
those vast woods, without any knowledge of 
metes and bounds? He knew exactly what 
he could have done if the explorers had let 
him travel with them on their rounds. A 
little cooperation would have enabled him 
to carry out his plans. Leadbetter’s question 
fairly “stumped” him. Where did he want 
to go? 

He roused himself from his musing to 
find the eyes of the woodsman fixed on him 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


105 

with kindly inquiry. Leadbetter seemed to 
realize that this strange young man was in 
trouble. 

The impulses of youth are sudden, and 
moreover, Hale was alone in a strange coun¬ 
try. He told his story, frankly and fully. 

“Well,” said Leadbetter, “I wouldn’t have 
been surprised at a great deal worse from 
John Batterson; and what ‘Straddler’ Corri- 
son and ‘Sawed-off’ Dumphy did to you was 
as natural as it is for a bear to steal molasses. 
You let me run this thing over in my mind 
a few minutes.” 

He squinted to watch the flight of a bee 
that was just leaving the box with a fresh 
load, and then plodded on in the direction 
the insect had taken. Hale followed. 

At last the old man pushed his way through 
a thick growth of young hackmatack, and 
came upon the huge hulk of a blasted pine. 
He walked round it, surveying it carefully, 
and then pointed high up on the rotting 
trunk. From a cleft in the tree bees were 
flinging themselves into the air—little pellets 
against the sky. 


io6 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


“This is it—I’ve struck it sooner than I 
thought I should. I won’t trouble it now. 
Some wet day later, when a smudge won’t be 
dangerous, I’ll come with the old horse and 
a jumper. There’ll be more honey than one 
man wants to lug, if I’m any judge of bee- 
trees.” 

He slipped the little box into his pocket, 
and tucked the patient turtle under his arm. 

“You’d better come home with me, Mr. 
Hale,” he said. “It’s no use to hunt for 
Dumphy and Corrison. If you found them, 
that wouldn’t help you. They don’t propose 
to let you do your work. It’s all understood 
between them and Batterson. My camp is up 
the pond a mile or so. You’re welcome 
there until you can decide what to do. Mean¬ 
while I’m thinking, too. I’m only Hard- 
Luck Anse, but perhaps I can be of help 
to you.” 

He slipped his hatchet out of his belt and 
blazed his way from the tree a precaution 
against the day when he should return. 

After a half-hour’s walk they came into a 
road that was hardly more than a trail, and 



LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


107 

at the end, beside the pond, was Leadbetter’s 
camp. 

It was an “octagon” of small, peeled logs, 
built in painstaking fashion. Jig-saw scrolls 
decorated the eaves, and young, peeled 
spruces supported the porch; the small 
branches had been left on, and woven about 
the trunks. Every detail of the place spoke 
of loving care and patient toil. 

“You like it, eh?” asked Leadbetter, 
pleased by his guest’s admiring comments. 
“So do I, Mr. Hale. I’ve put in many a 
long day’s work on it. Only some more of 
Anse Leadbetter’s foolishness! A lot of 
time wasted, I suppose. But for a good 
many years I worked as well as I knew how 
for some one else, and I didn’t get anywhere. 
And when I found out that honest work 
wasn’t getting me anywhere, I came here and 
worked for myself. It’s only fubbing, I sup¬ 
pose they’ll say. But it made me happy 
while I was doing it.” 

“There’s a lot of comfort in any work that 
a man does with all his heart!” cried Hale. 

There was homely comfort everywhere 


io8 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

about this cozy corner in the big woods. Two 
cats dozed in the sun, an old white horse 
whinnied from the window of a log hovel, 
and there was a garden, enclosed to keep 
out wild animals. The pond came dancing 
almost to the door of the camp. 

“If you want to earn your keep, Mr. Hale, 
you can take that pole, step out on the rock, 
and catch a few trout for our supper,” said 
the host. “I don’t have to go out of my 
own dooryard for trout.” 

Within ten minutes Hale had proved the 
truth of the boast. He cleaned the fish and 
carried them into the lean-to kitchen, where 
Leadbetter was nipping disks for biscuits 
from a generous piece of fresh-rolled dough. 

The joy of living was once more springing 
up in the young man. Eager to help, he led 
the horse to the pond for his drink, stuffed 
the stove with wood, and finally sat down to 
supper with the most voracious appetite he 
had ever brought to a table. But even while 
he ate, his eyelids drooped. The relaxation 
that follows anxiety, struggle and hard work 
was upon him. 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


109 


“Bed for you, sir, right now!” said the 
host, when they had finished supper. “There’s 
your bunk. Make for it while you’ve still 
got life enough to take off your boots.” 


CHAPTER XI 


Hale went to sleep almost as soon as he 
closed his eyes. The next morning he lay 
for a few moments in the luxury of a half¬ 
doze, until the clink of dishes in the lean-to 
told him that his host was up and about. 

He dressed slowly, puzzling over his 
situation. During breakfast he talked little; 
he was thinking, and Leadbetter respected 
his guest’s meditations. 

For a long time after breakfast the old 
man sat on the edge of the porch, looking out 
across the sparkling waters of the pond. He 
turned suddenly. 

“You can’t figure it to suit you, can you?” 

“No, I can’t,” said Hale. “I can’t accom¬ 
plish anything by staying up here. I de¬ 
pended on those explorers, and did not bring 
plots of the T. C. tracts. I’m not even sure 
that the company has plots of these tracts.” 

“John P. Batterson doesn’t believe in fur- 

110 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


in 


nishing ammunition of that kind to any one 
—not even to his company. And he has had 
the whole say of operations up here.” 

“I wouldn’t get any satisfaction if I went 
back to him. He will probably make up 
some kind of story of my actions and send in 
a report to hurt me with the directors.” 

“Of course he will. He doesn’t want you 
to succeed. His salary has depended on re¬ 
sults, and he gets results by slaughtering the 
woods. I’m glad the T. C. is waking up, 
but-” 

Another long silence ensued. The old 
man gazed thoughtfully out over the lake. 

“Mr. Hale,” he said, at last, “the name I 
go by in the woods is Hard-Luck Anse Lead- 
better. I started in as an independent op¬ 
erator. I had a few thousand dollars and a 
lot of courage. For two seasons I had my 
drive held up until the June drought hit 
me. I went broke. Then I took some pop¬ 
lar contracts—minded my own business and 
worked as hard as I knew how. The same 
man who held up my log drive got a special 
act through the legislature, closing the 



112 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


streams in this section to poplar pulp-wood, 
on the ground that it got water-logged and 
clogged the channel. By my system of raft¬ 
ing it didn’t, but the legislature heard only 
one side of the case. No notice was served 
on me to be on hand and present my side. 
If I took railroad-sleeper contracts or cut 
poles for the telegraph lines, it was all the 
same! Something happened to me. One 
man did the figuring to make it happen. And 
that man was John P. Batterson.” 

“Doesn’t he intend to let anybody else have 
a show in this section?” 

“Only a few have had the courage—or 
folly—to try it. I’ve tried the hardest; and 
they call me Hard-Luck Leadbetter as a 
result.” 

“I can t understand why a man has such 
a disposition as Batterson. He can make 
money enough without having to ruin any 
one.” 

“The men who have the most are the ones 
who want to have it all. John P. Batterson 
wants this region for himself. As long as 
he has only his own slaves in here, he is able 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK ‘ 113 

to carry on his trickery for his own profit. 
It isn’t a matter of square deal with him— 
it’s one of dollars.” 

“Why haven’t you been to the directors of 
the Telos Company? My uncle is one of the 
stockholders. I’m going to have a few words 
to say myself about John P. Batterson.” 

“With all due respect to you, Mr. Hale, 
you’re too new a hand in woods matters to 
be able to prove a case against Batterson. It 
would simply mean that you’d lose your job.” 

“It doesn’t seem to be much of a job.” 

Leadbetter broke the long silence that fol¬ 
lowed. 

“I don’t want to discourage you, or inter¬ 
fere with your work or your prospects with 
the Telos Company. But I know Batterson 
better than you know him. I know your 
position will never amount to much as long 
as he has anything to say about it. It isn’t 
for his interest to have a forestry expert on 
the T. C. lands. Maybe the company will 
wake up some day. It’s all dividends and 
present profits just now—and he is lying 
about the resources that are left. If there 


IJ 4 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


was any other outlook for you, I wouldn’t 
mention what I’m going to mention. But as 
matters stand, Mr. Hale, you won’t lose much 
if nothing comes out of the trip I’m going 
to suggest to you. It only means a little of 
your time.” 

He hesitated. 

“Tell me what it is,” the young man said. 

“No, I’ll not explain now. You wouldn’t 
go if I did. From John Batterson down, the 
opinion of people in these woods is that I’m 
only a useless crank. You found me fooling 
away my time. Now I’m going to ask you 
to take a walk with me. It’s something of 
a walk—ten miles from here straight into the 
deep woods.” 

“Where do we go?” asked Hale. 

“To Misery Gore.” 

“It doesn’t sound very inviting.” 

“It goes well with my nickname. Will 
you go with me?” 

There was something in Leadbetter’s tones, 
and especially something in his wistfulness, 
that made Hale decide on the instant. 

“I’ll go,” he said. 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


”5 

“Then we’ll not waste any time in starting. 
You might change your mind.” Leadbetter 
hurried off to begin preparations. He stuffed 
sacks with simple cooking utensils, with meal 
and pork, and sundries of the woodsman’s 
kit. He brought out the horse and strapped 
the burdens on its back. On the top of the 
pack he put a neatly folded tent. 

Their way took them north, along tote- 
roads for the first part of the journey, and 
then through the forest by paths that the old 
man followed unerringly. The stolid white 
horse had the sure-footedness of a deer, and 
their pace was a brisk one. They had cov¬ 
ered more than three-quarters of the distance 
when they camped for the night near the 
inlet of a lake. 

In the morning Leadbetter hurried break¬ 
fast with a boyish eagerness to be off. 

The last stage of the journey was a climb 
up densely wooded terraces. Great spruces 
interlocked their branches overhead, and the 
aisles of the forest were dim, although the 
sun was bright. 

Hale surveyed this magnificent growth 


n6 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

with the appreciative gaze of the forester. 
There were no signs of cuttings, none of the 
slash of the lower lands. It was virgin terri¬ 
tory. 

“I see you are keeping your eyes about 
you,” Leadbetter remarked. 

“If you had told me that such a timber 
tract was still left in this land of cut-and- 
slaughter, I’d have had hard work to believe 
you,” Hale replied. 

“The valley at the foot of this slope is 
dry. The men who have wanted to make 
money easily haven’t bothered about a tract 
like this. That’s one reason why it hasn’t 
been cut. This is the township I mentioned 
—Misery Gore.” 

“How did it get that name?” 

“It was named before I was born. And 
whoever named it must have known what was 
going to happen to me here.” 

He trudged on without explaining this re¬ 
mark. 

After a time the hill became less steep, and 
at last they came upon a table-land at the 
top. Although the soil was thinner here, 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


ii 7 

the “blackgrowth,” as lumbermen call the 
coniferous trees, was sturdy and well-set. 
From the edge of this table-land the ground 
sloped sharply downward; the brawling of 
waters sounded through the trees. 

The stream leaped down in swift cascades, 
balked sullenly in basins, and roared through 
gorges. Along the bush-grown road that 
skirted it the old man led the way to the 
lower levels. Occasionally he drew Hale’s 
attention to a rotting dam, and some other 
signs of an attempt to control the water for 
log-driving. 

“It’s White Horse Brook,” said Leadbet- 
ter, “and I found her a bucking nag when 
I tried to saddle her a good many years 
ago. But I know her secret now—if only 
I had the chance—one more chance!” 

A little before noon Leadbetter pitched 
camp. They had followed the riotous stream 
down until it moved more sedately along the 
lower levels. The old man unloaded the 
horse, and turned him loose to hunt for scat¬ 
tered patches of grass. 

“Now, Mr. Hale,” Leadbetter said, when 


118 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

he had lighted the fire and had hung the 
tea-pail over it on a crotched stick, “you’re 
probably wondering what all this is about. 
I wanted you to use your eyes. You have 
walked through a wonderful tract of timber. 
You have had a glimpse of the lay of the 
land. Now I suppose that in your studies 
you had to look into the lumbering end of 
forestry?” 

“I think I understand the theory.” 

“From what you’ve seen, as you came 
along, you’d say, wouldn’t you, that the out¬ 
look for the lumbering end was pretty wicked 
—timber on the wrong side of the slope, a 
dry valley that way, and this way a stream 
that’s named ‘Horse,’ but that’s more like a 
kangaroo?” 

“It doesn’t look very favorable, Mr. Lead- 
better, to tell the truth.” 

“So the old-fashioned lumbermen have 
thought all these years,” said the old man. 
“They have let it alone. And I’m only a 
crank, with a few dreams in my empty head. 
I lost part of my money trying to lumber 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 119 

this tract. I lost the rest of it because John 
Batterson hit me the final blow just when I 
might have staggered through to success. 
Now that you’ve seen the tract, Mr. Hale, 
what I say to you about it will mean some¬ 
thing. First, I want you to look at this.” 

From his wallet he took a yellowed paper, 
unfolded it, and passed it to Hale. 

“That is a stumpage contract with the 
owners of Misery Gore. It was made years 
ago, when lumber was cheap, and this sec¬ 
tion so far from everything that it didn’t 
seem as if the tract ever would be logged. 
That contract gives me an option on the 
tract during my life. Queer contract, hey? 
but the owners were glad to get anything out 
of the property—it came to them as a free 
gift—a Revolutionary soldier’s grant. I paid 
them, as you’ll see there, a certain sum every 
year to bind the contract, whether I lum¬ 
bered or not. All the years I’ve kept that 
contract alive. It has been a hard task since 
John P. Batterson robbed me. I have gone 
without most of the things men enjoy. I 


120 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


have lived like a hermit in the woods. I 
have worked for day’s wages, chopping; I 
have lined bees, dug gum, hunted, trapped 
and guided. But I have been able to keep 
that contract alive.” 


CHAPTER XII 


“READ the names signed, Mr. Hale, 
please,” said Leadbetter. 

“ ‘Jabez Wincapaw, Eben Wincapaw, 
Esther Wincapaw.’ And it is properly 
sealed and signed by witnesses.” 

“It’s all binding and legal, Mr. Hale. 
Those are the Wincapaw heirs. They were 
poor people, and they were glad to have the 
sum I paid them. Only one is left—old 
Esther, almost ninety, and blind, and the 
money supports her.” 

He put the paper back into his wallet. 

“You have seen the land, and now you 

have seen what my rights are in it. And Em 

telling you frankly that most lumbermen 

would say I’ve been paying out fool’s money 

all these years. I have gone to a few men 

with my scheme, and they have turned me 

down. So, you see, it’s a sort of a desperate 

appeal I’m making to you; but you are a 

young man with fresh ideas, and I’m hoping 

121 


122 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


that you can see a prospect where the old 
fellows have been blind. 

“In the past years I have tramped every 
square foot of the Gore, back and forth. I 
have counted every tree on it. You know 
how the ‘practical’ fellows clean a tract, Mr. 
Hale. They begin at the top of the ridge 
and twitch down-hill, with horses, to the 
yards and the landings. Well, when Misery 
Gore is operated, the system will have to be 
applied wrong end to. You’ve got to begin 
at the bottom and twitch to the top of the 
slope, haul across the table-land, and drop 
into this valley. Now that’s about as far as 
anybody has ever let me get with my state¬ 
ment of plans!” 

“I know that the man who uses his head 
before he begins to use his muscle is the big 
winner in the end, Mr, Leadbetter,” said 
Hale. 

“My idea is to whip-lash a road on that 
slope, back and forth, back and forth, from 
the east to the west limits of the tract. It 
will climb the hill by less than a ten per-cent 
grade. Fifteen miles, or more, of it, and all 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


123 

blazed and laid out. It will surprise you 
when you cruise the tract to see how little 
clearing will have to be done to let that road 
through. That’s the advantage of virgin ter¬ 
ritory where there is no slash, and where the 
beech and ash haven’t got a foothold.” 

“A fifteen-mile haul means a pretty stiff 
outlay for horse outfit,” Hale suggested. 

“Now you’ve put your finger on the trou¬ 
ble!” cried Leadbetter. “Old John P. Bat- 
terson himself hasn’t horses enough to turn 
that trick. But right here, Mr. Hale, is 
where another fool comes in! I’m one fool. 
There’s another. He is a blacksmith friend 
of mine. He has worked nights after his 
day at the forge was done; he has gone 
ragged and hungry to get money to put into 
the thing. And now that it’s done, those 
practical fellows look at it and laugh. Well, 
it is comical to look at! I have laughed at 
its looks myself. It isn’t a fancy machine 
like these up-to-date log-haulers the rich com¬ 
panies can afford to operate. But we have 
tested it, and it will do the work. It will 
haul 30,000 feet of logs at a trip on a five- 


1 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


I2 4! 

sled train. There isn’t another like it in 
the world. It is a cross between a locomo¬ 
tive and a steam-roller. It lays down its own 
track as it goes along. Two men, working 
our tops and slash into fuel will feed it. 
There’s the big idea! Poor men can run it. 
We can use waste stuff because of the boiler- 
plan. We can do two round trips a day with 
it, from ; the bottom of the slope. As we 
work nearer the top in our cutting, it will do 
better. It will do the work of fifty horses 
at a quarter of expense.” 

“I should think it would be easy enough 
to sell such a machine as that to any lumber¬ 
man up here who is sensible.” 

“It will be easy enough to sell it to the in¬ 
dependents who must figure fine on operating 
costs. They’ll buy it after some fool like my¬ 
self has tried it and made a success of it,” 
Leadbetter replied. 

He leaped up and began to stride to and 
fro. 

“It has got to be tried before it will be 
taken up. If I can begin operations here this 
season, Stacy will put that log-hauler in on 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


125 

Misery for a percentage on our cut, to be 
paid after our logs are sold. It will cost a 
few hundred dollars to pack it in here piece¬ 
meal on jumpers—and it’s ours for the win¬ 
ter! You see Stacy’s object, of course. A 
percentage that will yield him ten dollars a 
day will satisfy him, for he’s looking to the 
future. I said I’d get those logs to the land¬ 
ing for a quarter of the expense that there’d 
be with horses. Why, we’d spend only what 
hay and oats would cost for horses—to say 
nothing of what we’d save on the teamsters! 

“By this time you understand what I’m 
driving at.” He held out his hands, palms 
open. “I haven’t a cent, Mr. Hale. I don’t 
know whether you have any money or not. 
But I’m putting this thing up to you. Your 
(uncle, ought to take some sort of interest in 
your success. Will he back you with ready 
cash. It won’t take much. We’ll need pro¬ 
visions, rigging and tools. I can find men in 
these woods who will work hard and take 
their pay when the logs are down. There 
are plenty of them who want to be out from 
under the hard fist of John Batterson. Your 


126 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


uncle is a stockholder in the Telos Company. 
This operation isn’t going to hurt that con¬ 
cern. There’s room for any honest man to 
earn a living in these woods.” 

Hale was not prepared to answer. To 
switch from employment as a Telos Company 
forester to a partnership with “Hard-Luck” 
Leadbetter seemed rather a doubtful step. 

“I’ll be honest with you,” said Leadbetter. 
“I don’t want you to think I’m picking up 
the first young man who comes along and 
offering to take him into partnership. I need 
more than the money. I need the influence 
that will bring John Batterson up to the ring¬ 
bolt of a square deal. He ruined me years 
ago by using might instead of right, and 
holding up my drive in waters that are as 
much mine as his. There isn’t much law up 
here after it’s been filtered through all the 
trees between Misery Gore and the State- 
house! But John P. Batterson would think 
twice before he tried his tricks on the nephew 
of a T. C. stockholder. And if he tried the 
tricks, your uncle, Til warrant, has the ear 
of the judges as well as Batterson.” 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


127 

“My uncle is a man of some influence in 
state matters,” Hale acknowledged. 

“Well, I Ve said it. I’ve told you my story. 
I’ve been honest with you. There is more 
to tell you later, in regard to the drive 
and the market, but I’ve said enough now. I 
don’t expect any answer until you’ve thought 
it all over. I’m only going to ask you to be 
patient here a day or so, and cruise this 
township with me.” 

In the afternoon Leadbetter took the 
young man up and down the stream. He 
pointed out its defects and dangers, from the 
point of view of the river-driver. 

“I built sluices here and there,” he said, 
when they paused on a ledge that overlooked 
a boiling caldron of white water. “I had 
dams above to control the water as best I 
could. But when I turned on the water and 
started the logs down, the pitch was too 
steep. The sluices overflowed and the logs 
jumped the sides.” 

“I must say the stream seems to be as much 
of an untamed bronco as ever, Mr. Lead- 
better,” said Hale. “How can you expect 


128 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


anything different when you try to drive 
it again?” 

“Once more you put your finger on the 
trouble!” cried Leadbetter, who plainly rel¬ 
ished the question. “Lining bees and fishing 
for foxes with a mud-turtle are jobs that 
give a man plenty of time for meditation. 
Mr. Hale, I’ve thought out a scheme for 
flumes and sluices that will make the White 
Horse as meek and mild as the old dobbin 
that tugged our duffel up here. I built those 
other sluices the way every one else had 
always built them. If Providence helps me 
again, through you or somebody else, I’ll 
use logs and make the sides of the sluices of 
open cribwork. See? The overflow of 
water will gush out through the sides instead 
of over the top. The logs will stay in the 
runway. I’ll show you my drawings and 
models later.” 

The solution was so simple that Hale 
laughed, even while he complimented the 
old man on the idea. 


CHAPTER XIII 


\ 


When Richard Hale went to sleep that 
night, ambition struggled furiously with 
prudence in his mind. The struggle con¬ 
tinued all the next day, while he followed 
Leadbetter over the magnificently wooded 
slopes of Misery. He saw the plan of the 
road that was to “whip-lash” up the hill¬ 
side. Nature, with her terraces, had been 
beforehand in meeting the plans of man half¬ 
way. Such a road would traverse the tract 
so thoroughly from side to side and from 
end to end that all parts would be accessible. 
With a forester’s perception, Hale saw even 
more possibilities in the tract than Leadbet¬ 
ter had seen. It would be easy to work it 
on scientific principles, to choose trees with 
strict regard to thinning, and to future 
growth and reseeding. It was a tract where 
skillful forestry would provide an abundant 
supply for cutting every year for an indefi¬ 
nite time. 


129 


13 ° 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


Enthusiasm took possession of him. Was 
not this one of those opportunities which Jeff 
Gordon had painted in such bright colors? 

The next morning he said, “Mr. Leadbet- 
ter, exactly what is your proposal to me?” 

“Equal partnership. For my part, I’ll 
turn in my stumpage contract, which repre¬ 
sents the hard work and self-denial of years, 
I’ll turn in my plans for work, and last of 
all, I’ll work! You’ll get the money for 
the outfit and the preliminary work. We’ll 
sit down together and figure the thing out 
just as economically as we know how—and I 
do know how to get the most out of a dollar; 
1 have had experience enough. You’ll get 
your uncle interested enough to see that we 
have fair play on these waters. We’ll pay 
back the money out of the first sums we get 
for our logs, and I’ll share the interest 
charges with you. Then we’ll divide profits, 
share and share alike.” 

“But about the money that you have paid 
for control of the stumpage contract?” asked 
Hale. 




CROUCHED OVER THE LITTLE CAMP-FIRE, FIGURING 


ESTIMATES 



























































































LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


131 

“That has been my own tussle, and we’ll 
let it remain that. This year, if we operate, 
the stumpage charges will come out of our 
common receipts. We’ll give poor old 
Esther a fair share. She’ll take what I think 
is right, and be glad to get it. I’ll be honest 
with her.” 

“I think you are decidedly too liberal with 
me, Mr. Leadbetter,” protested Hale. 

“I’m only giving you the benefit of what 
I’ve done in the past for what you can do 
in the future. It’s a fair exchange, and I’d 
like to get rid of that nickname of mine 
before I die!” 

Hale took that day for himself. He went 
out alone, and cruised Misery Gore. He 
studied the trees, made his notes, and framed 
the case that he proposed to lay before his 
uncle. For he had decided. When he came 
to camp at night, he told Leadbetter his 
decision, and shook hands with him over the 
partnership. The two spent the evening 
crouched over the little camp-fire, figuring 
estimates by the scant light. 

Early the next day, with Leadbetter as 


132 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


his guide, Hale set forth on his return to 
Spectacle dam. 

They made long stages, for Hale had be¬ 
come hardened to the fatigues of the forest 
trail, and his new partner was still a youth 
in point of endurance. 

On the third day, when the sparkle of lake 
waters through the trees showed them that 
they were near the capital of “Hammer¬ 
head’s” principality, they took leave of each 
other. 

“I’ve grub enough to get me back to my 
own diggings,” said Leadbetter. “I’ll take 
no chances on going down into Batterson’s 
hole, there. I’m in too happy a state of 
mind just now, Mr. Hale. I don’t want 
the sight of him to spoil my happiness, for 
I’m hoping—hoping that you’ll get what 
you’re going for.” 

Hale watched him as he trudged away 
among the trees, leading his old horse; the 
sight brought a lump to his throat. The 
tragedy of a ruined life was expressed as 
much in the stoop of the man’s shoulders as 
in the lines of his sad face. 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


133 


He had that picture in his mind when he 
met John Batterson a little later in the yard 
of the boarding-house. With Leadbetter’s 
case in mind, along with his own grudge, the 
young man returned the “boss’s” stare with 
an expression that was hardly amiable. 

“Well?” demanded Batterson, after Hale 
had glared at him for some moments. 

“Change that to bad, Mr. Batterson. ‘Bad’ 
fits the whole business.” 

“Don’t know but you’re right! Lagging 
back on two of our best timber-cruisers when 
time is money with ’em—interfering in their 
work with a lot of forestry nonsense that 
some fool wrote down in a book for you!” 

“We will not discuss the matter, Mr. Bat¬ 
terson. I know enough about you now to 
understand that it will be only a waste of 
time. I have my own plans from this time 
on.” 

Something in the young man’s tone and air 
either pricked Batterson’s curiosity or stirred 
his apprehension. He followed Hale toward 
the boarding-house. 

“You want to be mighty careful what kind 


134 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


of stories you send in to the company from 
here, young fellow, even if your uncle does 
happen to be a stockholder.” 

“Are you afraid I’ll report that you started 
me out with two men who were told to run 
my legs off and then desert me?” said Hale, 
walking on and speaking over his shoulder. 

“Desert you? Why, you ran away from 
my men—and they wasted two days hunting 
for you! There’s the word of two good men 
against yours.” 

Hale pulled from his waistcoat pocket the 
note that he had found on the morning the 
explorers had left him. He flipped it under 
Batterson’s nose and returned it to his pocket. 

“I have their signatures to a note telling 
me to go my own way and keep out from 
under their feet.” 

“They—they — wrote that!” Batterson 
fairly shouted, and his face showed astonish¬ 
ment and rage. 

By this time the two were close to the 
porch of the boarding-house. Dumphy and 
Corrison sat there, watching with sardonic 
grins the young man’s approach. 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


135 

“I got your little message when I woke,” 
Hale said. “I thank you for it in person, 
seeing that you did not leave me any 
address.” 

“He lies. You two are fools, all right, but 
you didn’t go and leave any writing for him 
to prove it by!” bellowed Batterson, red with 
anger. 

But the expression on their faces convicted 
them. The boss knew that their dull malice 
had overreached itself. Hale walked into 
the house and left them to the fury of the en¬ 
raged tyrant; he was delighted to hear Bat¬ 
terson warming to his subject. 

His old friend Doe tiptoed out from the 
kitchen; his cook’s apron was tucked up, his 
nose was white with flour. 

“Ain’t he just a plum, complete orator on 
the failings of mankind in general when he 
gets started?” Doe said, as he jerked his 
thumb in the direction of the raging boss. 
“And if you need any further proof of how 
they ran off and left you, call on me. They 
told me all about it when they got back yes¬ 
terday.” 


136 LBADBETTER’S LUCK 

a Put up two days’ grub for me, will you, 
Doe? I’m going down-river.” 

“I don’t blame you,” said Doe. “Show 
’em up to the big folks.” 

Doe could imagine only one cause for 
Hale’s sudden departure. 

He trotted on his errand, and brought the 
food before Hale had packed his duffel- 
bags. Doe had stored the new canoe care¬ 
fully in the cook’s lean-to, and he helped 
Hale to carry it and his other property to 
the river. All the time he kept advising 
Hale in an undertone to hand in a particu¬ 
larly red-hot report at headquarters. He kept 
his voice low out of fear of Batterson, who 
was tramping about the yard, eyeing these 
preparations with angry suspicion. 

Hale had most of the afternoon before 
him for his trip down the river. He bade a 
cheery good-by to Doe, thrust his paddle into 
the water, and went bowling down the swift 
current. With the current to help him, he 
made camp that night, late in the evening, 
at Skull-tree “put-in.” He slept under the 
edge of his canoe. 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


137 


At daybreak he was stirring. He dragged 
his canoe far into the bushes and hid it, after 
the fashion of river voyagers in those parts. 
The duffel that he could not tote he stored 
carefully under the upturned craft. When 
he set out on his tramp across the carry to the 
lake and the steamboat wharf, his emotions 
were somewhat more mixed than when he 
had crossed earlier in the month. 

As he marched on, his errand to his uncle 
seemed harder than when he parted from 
Leadbetter. After a futile beginning in his 
chosen profession, he was returning to his 
uncle with a story of failure, coupled with a 
proposal to abandon his work and enter upon 
a new business. He wondered how such a 
quick change of plan would appear to the 
man of hard-headed conservatism. For he 
not only wished to leave the employment of 
the Telos Company, but he intended to set 
up a business in opposition to it. And with 
whom? With a man of hopes and dreams 
whom the satirists of the woods had nick¬ 
named “Hard-Luck” Leadbetter. 

As he drew farther away from Leadbetter 


138 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

and his rosy plans, and came nearer to the 
cold, practical business world outside the 
woods, he felt rather discouraged at the 
prospect. 

Furthermore, was he not performing a 
most amazing face-about, he, the young man 
who had been so jealous regarding his in¬ 
dependence? What had this new influence 
of the woods done to him? Had he gone 
half crazy along with Leadbetter? 

Hale reached the city late in the evening, 
and spent the night at a hotel. The next 
morning he made himself as presentable as 
he could in his woods clothes, and went 
down to his uncle’s office. The inquisitive 
glances that the clerks gave him did not 
help to put him at his ease. 

His uncle met him with a look of astonish¬ 
ment that he did not try to hide. Hale 
plunged into his subject with such energy 
that his uncle did not attempt to interrupt 
him. The older man leaned back in his 
armchair. After he had heard the gist of his 
nephew’s errand, blurted out in the first im¬ 
petuous words, he ran his fingers through 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


139 

his hair. Its ruffled state emphasized his air 
of astonishment. 

When Hale had finished, he rose and 
started for the door. He had decided to try 
one of Leadbetter’s methods that had worked 
well in his own case. 

“I’m going to let you think the thing over, 
uncle. I’ve given you all the facts, and have 
stated them just as straight as I know how. 
I realize that you need a little time on it, 
even if you intend to say no.” 

His uncle did not call him back. 


CHAPTER XIV 


As Hale walked down the street, he tried 
to remember whether Mr. Weston Hale by 
any expression of his face had indicated sym¬ 
pathy. He had to own, regretfully, that 
astonishment and some bewilderment were 
the only emotions his uncle had displayed. 

In a rather blue mood he began the rounds 
of the wholesale district, visiting grocers and 
outfitters, and asking for prices. It seemed 
a useless preliminary, but it was a task to 
dull the sharp edge of waiting. 

At first, he put aside the thought of going 
to Marion at that juncture in his affairs. 
It would be necessary to explain why he was 
back again in the city; he did not want to 
disturb her with his own anxiety while he 
was waiting. He intended to return to his 
uncle in the afternoon. 

Then, having plenty of time for reflection, 
he pondered on his uncle’s well-known na¬ 
ture. 


140 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


141 

Weston Hale was cautious and methodi¬ 
cal; he could not be jumped by headlong 
methods; he was quite apt to turn down any¬ 
body who came at him too forcefully. His 
resentment was more easily stirred than his 
interest. 

Richard had left with him figures and a 
written outline of the Misery plans. The 
young man decided to give those figures 
plenty of time to burrow. They would not 
get very far under the skin while his uncle 
was distracted by the regular affairs of his 
busy day. 

Then came the hankering to make a confi¬ 
dante of Marion, even at the risk of disturb¬ 
ing her serenity. Her sorrow if he kept her 
out of his affairs might be more acute than 
her worry as to the outcome, he pondered; 
her interest in all that concerned him had 
always been so lovingly vital and intense! 

Therefore, he hurried out to the cottage 
and told her all, even confessing his early 
intention to keep everything from her until 
Weston Hale had decided. 

“But you just couldn’t grieve me like that, 


i4 2 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


Dick, keeping me in the dark. Your better 
nature wouldn’t allow you! Own up!” 

“No, sis! It came over me all of a sudden. 
So out I rushed. We’ll worry together for 
a few hours, then I’ll bring some good news 
back from Uncle Weston and we’ll have a 
jollification. That’s the fun of being part¬ 
ners.” 

“And I am your partner. That’s true, 
isn’t it?” 

“In all things.” 

“Dick, tell me the story about Misery all 
over again. Make it all very clear.” 

He obeyed, his enthusiasm increasing as 
he noted her profound interest. 

“You believe in it, don’t you?” It was not 
mere query—it was assertion, proving her 
own belief. 

“Yes! When I’m with Leadbetter—when 
I’m with you.” 

“Will you take woman’s counsel? I have 
so little of my own to think about. I’m able 
to concentrate on another person’s business.” 

“I’ll thank you for any advice, sis!” 

“In the first place, don’t go back to Uncle 



LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


H3 


Weston today. We both know how he hates 
to be jumped at. He probably isn’t back to 
normal even now.” 

‘‘Fine advice! Accepted!” 

“That gives us time to go over the matter 
thoroughly. We’re partners, don’t forget 
that,” she insisted; her eyes were bright; she 
was quivering with suppressed excitement; 
she put a peculiar emphasis on her declara¬ 
tion. “Say so again, Dick.” 

“Yes, we’re partners,” he returned indul¬ 
gently. 

“What are we going to do if Uncle Weston 
doesn’t see his way clear to help you?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Dick Hale, I’m astonished! Is that all 
the woods have done for you?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re out hunting big game with only 
one bullet for your gun!” 

“But really there’s no one else in the wide 
world I can ask for money—no one except 
Uncle Weston; other men with money would 
laugh at me. At least, he knows my honesty 
and may be willing to bank on it.” 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


144 

“And if he doesn’t do it you have no other 
resource?” 

“I know of none.” 

“I do! As a partner! I repeat—as a 
partner,” she cried, her tones a-tremble but 
her eyes very brave. 

He searched those eyes with a long stare. 
“If what I suspect is true—if you dare—but 
don’t you dare, Marion!” 

“Don’t you presume to browbeat a part¬ 
ner, simply on guesswork! We’ll talk of 
something else now, if you please. The first 
session of partners mustn’t break up in a 
quarrel.” 

When he went to sleep that night he con¬ 
soled himself with hope; a man of means 
like his uncle, already interested in the north 
country timber proposition, even if his inter¬ 
est in a struggling nephew might not be 
especially acute, would undoubtedly be will¬ 
ing to combine the two interests and seek 
profit. 

It was youth’s naive hope and he stuck to 
it; he knew well enough what sort of an 
alternative resource Marion was holding 



LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


145 


back. He loved her the more for this added 
proof of her loyalty but he was truly 
shocked by the mere thought of acceptance. 

Again, he persistently consoled himself 
with hope; he would win with his uncle; he 
would not be obliged to take issue with his 
sister regarding a most distressing question. 

He was early at his uncle’s office the next 
morning. Mr. Hal$, was dictating some 
business correspondence, and motioned him 
to a chair. Back in this atmosphere of cold 
practicality the prospect seemed more dis¬ 
mal than ever. 

“Now, my boy,” said the older man, when 
they were alone at last, “I know something 
about lumbering, but this scheme that you 
and your new friend have planned has an 
unheard-of quirk in every detail. Fresh ideas 
are all right in their way, but when you talk 
of logging up-hill, using a scrap-heap of an 
engine that no one has tried out, driving a 
stream that has already ruined an operator, 
experimenting in all this with some one else’s 
money, you are hitting my business sense a 
staggering blow.” 


146 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


“I suppose so/' said his nephew, dolefully. 
“It doesn’t sound here as it seemed to me 
when I was in the woods.” 

“Then you have changed your mind about 
the prospects, Richard?” asked Mr. Hale. 

“No, sir, not at all. I simply mean that I 
understand the difficulty of convincing you 
or any other business man.” 

“I have tried to get John Batterson on the 
Telos Company’s telephone. They have a 
private line to Spectacle dam. But it seems 
that Batterson has his own ideas about a 
telephone. He has placed the box on a tree 
in the woods. He can call up headquarters, 
but he doesn’t allow this end to bother him. 
He seems to carry things with a high hand, 
but the company has to accept him as he is, 
eccentricities and all. He is a valuable man 
in the woods. If I could have talked with 
Batterson, I could be more definite with you, 
Richard.” 

Hale hesitated. He had been discreetly 
silent about John Batterson. Now he decide 
ed to reveal something of his relations with 
the tyrant. “You wouldn’t get much satis- 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


147 


faction about me out of John Batterson. Bat- 
terson would have told you that I am a 
failure in the woods, and that Leadbetter is 
a lunatic. I may as well anticipate what he 
will say if you do get in touch with him.” 

He met his uncle’s amazed stare bravely. 

“I hadn’t intended to cry baby about the 
forestry business I was sent on. But now 
that you have brought Batterson into the mat¬ 
ter, I’m going to give you some facts.” 

He described how Batterson had received 
him, how he had sent him off into the woods 
with a couple of men who had frustrated all 
his attempts. He explained that he was now 
to all intent and purposes without occupation, 
and could accomplish nothing while Batter¬ 
son was in full control of the company’s 
field-work. 

“Is the man mad?” exclaimed Mr. Hale. 

“I don’t know, but I’m giving you facts, 
uncle. The effect of Batterson’s attitude, 
whatever his motive, was to put me out of 
commission.” 

“It’s high time to find out the reasons for 
this performance.” 


148 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

“On the face of it, it looks as if I had 
become sick of my work, and wanted to try 
something else for a change. I don’t want you 
to think that. I’ve just had to tell you the 
truth, at the risk of meddling in the affairs 
of the company. And it is the truth, no mat¬ 
ter what face John Batterson may try to put 
on it. As to the other things they say about 
Batterson’s dealings, it T s none of my business, 
and I won’t tell you anything about which I 
have no personal knowledge.” 

His uncle surveyed him thoughtfully and 
not with special favor. “An admirable 
stand, in some ways, but as long as you main¬ 
tain it we’re not getting full value out of 
you.” 

“As I have told you, sir, Batterson looked 
on me as a spy on his personal affairs; even 
your letter helped out that suspicion of his. 
Perhaps a new forester who hasn’t any rela¬ 
tives in the Telos can get along better with 
the man. I’m ready to resign.” 

“Provided I back you in the Misery mat¬ 
ter, eh? That’s a discouraging name, Rich¬ 
ard, Misery Gore!” 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


149 

“The name was on the place before I saw 
it.” 

“I’m sorry you ever did see it, Richard. 
It has shunted you from your real job 
and-” 

“But the matter of Batterson-” 

“Can be attended to! He is only an em¬ 
ployee and will not be allowed to interfere 
with the other men. In your case he has 
gone too far—your affair is the turning-point 
in his absolute domination in the north. But 
we’ll talk of that later. Just now T must 
tell you I’ll not back you in any independent 
operation. That’s final! Please don’t try to 
argue with me.” 

It was unexpected; it was like a blow in 
the face and the young man grew pale. 

“Take it like a man, Richard! I have a 
business reason. I have other interests to 
consider. You have been out of touch with 
matters while you’ve been in the woods. 
Probably you have not heard of the sudden 
death of Director Sprague.” 

Richard shook his head; he could not 
command his tongue. 




150 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


“I have been asked to fill the vacancy on 
the board and I intend to accept. Under 
such circumstances I can’t consistently back 
anybody on an independent operation. Ac¬ 
cording to your figures, you could undersell 
the Telos. It would never do for a Telos 
director to back even a minor rival who could 
affect the market. If I tried to turn such a 
trick—it might truly seem like one—using 
somebody in my own family, I’d probably 
have my associates in the Telos jumping on 
me as a knave. I’m sorry, boy! I’ll have to 
give you my help in another direction. As 
one of the board, I’ll see first of all that Bat- 
terson is tamed.” 

Richard, builder of hopes, had been high 
on his sanguine scaffolding. In this crash he 
was both dizzy and dumb. His uncle mis¬ 
took the continued silence. 

“This is no time for sulking, Richard.” 

“That isn’t my frame of mind, not a bit of 
it, Uncle Weston,” the nephew returned as 
bravely as he could. “But it was my first 
real chance, I felt, to pitch in on my own 
hook; naturally, I have been a good bit dis- 



LEADBETTER’S LUCK 151 

couraged as a hired man. But I hoped for 
too much—I asked for too much!” 

u No, it’s all right for a young man to ask 
for capital when he stands ready to invest his 
own hands, his grit and his courage. How¬ 
ever, in this case lender and borrower are 
tied up with a third party—the Telos. It’s 
too bad, in one way. But you must go back 
to your job. As to this man of the woods— 
his name is Leadbetter, is it?—I’ll tell you 
what I’ll do. I’ll use my director’s influence 
and have the Telos pay him something for his 
lease. Fellows of his stripe don’t know what 
to do with too much money.” 

“You’re making a wrong estimate of the 
man, sir.” 

“Well, your estimate may be better be¬ 
cause you know him. All right! Use your 
knowledge to your advantage. We’ll com¬ 
mission you to trade with Leadbetter. The 
sharper the dicker, the more you get.” 

“I can’t do it, Uncle Weston.” 

“It’ll be a mighty good stroke of business.” 

“But I can’t go back to Mr. Leadbetter 
and propose such a thing as an agent for the 





152 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


Telos, not after he has confided in me as he 
has. It would look as if I had used what I 
know to go over to the big concern and be¬ 
tray him. No, sir! I’ll not do that.” 

“But your man Leadbetter will be glad to 
get hold of some easy money that way! He’ll 
thank you for bridging the thing between the 
Telos and himself.” 

“Mr. Leadbetter is looking for something 
more than easy money, sir. He has invested 
in that Misery proposition a kind of capital 
money can’t buy up.” 

The young advocate rose. He came out 
of the torpor which had followed the blow 
to his hopes. He was resolute, intense, in¬ 
spired. “When a man has lived with what 
Leadbetter has lived in the north country, 
sir, he cannot be judged by money standards. 
He has invested his very soul in that thing. 
You, in the city here, can’t estimate the mat¬ 
ter. I’m telling you the truth, Uncle Wes¬ 
ton, when I say that half my ambition in this 
case is to help Leadbetter put through what 
he has undertaken; I’m working for his 
peace of mind; I understand what success 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


i53 


means to him. I’m working for myself, too! 
I wouldn’t be truthful if I didn’t admit that 
But I’m for him first And I’ll not betray 
him. I couldn’t look him in the face and 
offer to buy his soul for money.” 

“Very nobly said!” declared the financier 
drily. “But it isn’t business.” 

“Quite true, sir! So, I’ll take the folly of 
youth out ofia business office. It’s in the 
way, here!” 

“Just a moment, Richard! You’re as hard 
to handle as I have found you to be in the 
past. You’re going to report to Leadbetter, 
I presume?” 

“Yes, sir!” 

“Failure?” 

“I suppose so, where my help is con¬ 
cerned.” 

“Once again, wouldn’t it be well to pro¬ 
pose the alternative?” 

“And again I say I cannot propose it. He 
has been betrayed so many times! His na¬ 
ture has been warped. I repeat, I would 
seem like another betrayer, using the infor¬ 
mation he has given me. I have an affec- 


154 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


tion for the man. I’d rather grieve him by 
my failure than have him believe I have 
added myself to the persecutors who have 
wrecked all his plans so far.” 

“Then you’ll go back to your forestry 
work with the Telos, will you?” 

Richard replied frankly out of his doubts. 
“I don’t know, sir.” 

“You must decide by three o’clock tomor¬ 
row afternoon,” said Mr. Hale firmly. 
“Though I’m not yet a director I’m going to 
ask the board to meet and consider this mat¬ 
ter in order that my skirts may be clear. It’s 
very annoying to have this relationship-twist 
snarl up my connection with the Telos right 
at this juncture,” he added querulously. “I 
insist on common sense from now on. Pre¬ 
sent yourself before the board tomorrow at 
three.” 

“It must be understood that I’ll engage in 
no more arguments about the Leadbetter 
case, sir! My mind is made up on that 
point.” 

“You may be ordered, as our agent, to 
report on the Misery tract and conduct nego- 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


iSS 


tiations for a lease. If you refuse, the board 
may ask for your resignation. I’m not 
threatening, you understand. I’m taking no 
part except in furnishing information which 
has come my way. But you must be pre¬ 
pared for contingencies.” 

“Perhaps my best preparation will be to 
have my resignation written out and ready.” 

“I’d hate to see you discharged, Richard. 
It would hurt your prospects.” 

“I understand! I’ll give ’em a chance to 
let me down easy.” 

Richard, on his way to a street car, passed 
some of the wholesale houses where he had 
asked for prices. The sight of them drove 
deeper the iron of hopeless defeat. Pity for 
poor old Leadbetter, waiting patiently and 
anxiously in the north, was keener than his 
own pain; youth has resources which old age 
has not. 

Richard sought a refuge where he could 
get a new grip on himself; naturally, he fled 
to the understanding sympathy of his sister. 


CHAPTER XV 


“I DON’T know just what a partner ought 
to do when the firm gets a setback,” con¬ 
fessed Marion, after she had listened with 
eager attention. “But I don’t feel a bit like 
lamenting and condoling, honestly I don’t, 
Dick. I suppose I should feel that way!” 
(However, there was dancing light in her 
eyes. Perhaps she had forestalled the cau¬ 
tious, critical judgment of Uncle Weston. 
“At any rate, if partners with rapped 
knuckles simply sat down and whimpered to¬ 
gether there wouldn’t be much done in the 
world, would there, brother?” 

“I’m bucking up all right where my own 
interests are concerned, sis. But I almost 
want to cry when I think of poor old Lead- 
better. He’s sitting, watching the trail. A 
man in the woods doesn’t have much to take 
his mind off his big trouble.” 

“I’m thinking of him, too. I can see him 

156 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


iS7 

right now! I can understand him from what 
you have told me about him.” 

“There’s only one thing to do, of course! 
Go and tell him. And I’ll feel like a 
whipped cur when I face him.” 

“No, there’s another thing to do!” 

“Not the Telos proposition! I’ll not-” 

“You’re very dull today, Dick! But I 
suppose Uncle Weston’s slap made your 
wits dizzy. You were more acute last eve¬ 
ning when you warned me not to dare.” 

“I warn you today more emphatically!” 
He raised his tones indignantly. 

“As a mere sister I might shrink. As a 
partner I insist on being heard.” 

“We’ll put aside that partnership idea, if 
you please.” 

“I don’t please, not to help you in break¬ 
ing your solemn word to me, partner!” How 
insistent she was on that point of partner¬ 
ship! 

He yelped an impatient ejaculation and 
rose to leave the room. But he could not 
win against her pertinacity in that fashion. 

“Look you here, sir! Remember I’m a 



158 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

Hale. I have plenty of the family grit 
Once on a time, Mister Richard, you made 
me do exactly what you wanted me to do. 
I submitted. Turn about is fair play. This 
time you must ‘cotton,’ as the saying is. You 
must take our money—note what I call it— 
our money and make a success with it.” 

“Mistress Marion, never!” 

“But you were perfectly willing to risk 
Uncle Weston’s money. Is the scheme a 
questionable one? Are you afraid it’s only 
a gamble? Are you that kind of a chap?” 

“No, I believe in the proposition. But I 
won’t take your money.” 

“Our money!” 

" Yours , I say!” 

“Are we getting anywhere, tossing ‘our’ 
and ‘yours’ at each other?” she queried 
blandly, not a bit intimidated by his manner. 

“We’ll get nowhere by continuing the 
topic. Better drop it,” he advised grouchily. 

“I’ve been thinking on it too long, Richard. 
I’ll not drop it. Sit down, please. Please!” 

He obeyed the tremor in her tones rather 
than the request. 




LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


iS9 

Man to man is one thing! Man to woman 
is wholly another. 

Marion had striven with him on the man¬ 
ly basis. She had other resources, so often 
effective. She employed them. 

“IVe never complained about the misfor¬ 
tune which has made me a shut-in, my 
brother. Fve always had a smile and a gay 
word for you. But for myself, sitting here 
day after day, I’ve had only thoughts, most¬ 
ly. My thoughts about you and your success! 
And these two, poor hands!” She spread 
them appealingly. “So idle, these hands! 
-Not able to help you!” 

“Don’t, little sis! I can’t endure it!” he 
choked. 

“But you must listen to me, Dick. Do you 
mean to grieve me to the very depths of my 
heart and soul when you refuse to give me 
my only, my first real chance, to help you? 
To help myself, too, in the way of content 
and honest happiness? Will you go away, 
out into the busy world, where you can find 
so much to do and so many things to think 
about, and leave me here alone, sitting help- 


160 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

less with my poor sorrow because you 
wouldn’t allow me to do my little bit? I 
won’t have a happy moment. You won’t 
dare to let your thoughts run to me, Dick. 
Why, even what I’m thinking about that 
poor old man of the woods will spoil my 
days for me.” 

Tears were in her eyes, but the eyes were 
brighter than ever with eager appeal. 

“Dick, think how happy every day will be 
when the sun rises and I wake and know 
you’re busy, succeeding, because I have had 
my little part in your affairs! There! I’m 
done with pleading! But you have my true 
happiness in your keeping. I have absolute 
faith in your future. I’d rather have you to 
depend on, just you, than all the banks in 
the world. For the banks don’t give devo¬ 
tion and love along with interest money. Oh, 
Dick, my brother, can’t you see?” 

Tears were in his eyes, too. 

“I do see, sis! I’m going outdoors for a 
little while.” 

“Let’s not have any more talk about the 
thing when you come back,” she urged plain- 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 161 

tively. “It has been distressing for both of 
us. Only say, when you come back, say only 
one word: ‘Partner’!” 

And he said it when he came back, taking 
her up into his arms and kissing her with 
the silent pledge of grateful love. 

Now responsibility had become a fetish, a 
spell, a jealous god. 

Failure was unthinkable. 

Ambition had been a spur, to be sure. But 
this new motive for success put him into a 
veritable frenzy of determination. 

Marion wanted to place everything in his 
hands, in absolute trust. 

But he insisted on calling in the attorney 
who had served them in the past. Suitable 
papers of partnership were drawn up. 
Richard protected the partnership as much 
as he could with an insurance policy on his 
life, providing against the hazards of the 
woods and rivers. 

He profitably spent the time until three 
o’clock of the afternoon set for his interview 
with the Telos directors: he bought supplies, 
paying cash, able at last in his courage and 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


162 

hope to spend the money without the pangs 
which at first stung him. He came to a 
realizing sense of what this meant to Marion. 

At the time appointed he was ushered in 
before the board. 

“If you’ll allow me, gentlemen, I’ll speak 
first, saving time for you. I am resigning 
my position as forester. I have been able to 
finance an independent timber proposition; 
I’ll operate with another man on my own 
account.” 

Weston Hale was present; the nephew 
swapped a disarming smile for a glare of 
amazement. 

“Your mind is fully made up, is it?’* 
asked the president. 

“Yes, sir!” 

“Do you operate in our region?” 

“Not far from it. I’ll be perfectly frank 
and say the tract is Misery Gore. I’m asso¬ 
ciated with Anson Leadbetter who has had 
rather poor luck there in past times. We 
see a way to handle the thing on new lines.” 

His face hardened; he tightened his lips 
in resolve. 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 163 

“I feel I’m entitled to say something in 
my own behalf, gentlemen, even to the ex¬ 
tent of criticising a man who stands high 
with your company. I found it impossible to 
cooperate with Field Manager Batterson. I 
was of no especial value to you while he took 
the attitude which he did.” 

“Have you any comments to make on his 
general system of managership?” inquired 
Mallon. 

“No, sir! I speak only of my personal 
connection with him. And in that line allow 
me to say something more. Mr. Batterson 
has persistently balked and persecuted Lead- 
better, so the latter says. I don’t believe this 
board countenances such tactics.” 

“Can you be specific?” asked Director 
Dixon. 

“Leadbetter states that for two consecu¬ 
tive years Batterson wilfully held up the 
Leadbetter logs on common waters; it 
spelled ruin for the man.” 

“The Telos company doesn’t need to ruin 
the other fellow,” announced Dixon. “If 
Batterson is running things in that fashion 


164 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

l 

we’ll take a look into his system. You’ll get 
fair play up there, Mr. Hale, have no fear 
about that! I’ll say for myself I’m sorry you 
have found it necessary to resign.” He rose 
and walked to the ex-forester, patted 
Richard’s shoulder and gave him a firm 
handclasp. “The best o’ luck and a top price 
when you get your logs into the sorting- 
boom!” 

“Do you care to tell me where you have 
found your backing?” asked Weston Hale, 
overtaking his nephew in the corridor. 

“I hope you’ll pardon me if I don’t tell 
you, sir.” 

“Perhaps I can guess. But no matter.” 
He was still peevish. “I must say you’ve 
put me in a most infernal pickle as your 
uncle and a Telos director. I hope you 
realize your responsibility all ’round.” 

“So much so, sir, that it’ll be dangerous 
for any man in the north country to stick out 
his foot to trip me. I hope Batterson can be 
controlled after this from headquarters.” 

“It will be attended to. I can do that 
much for you, my boy.” 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 165 

But Richard, pondering on the future, was 
not entirely assured. 

He canvassed the matter with Marion that 
evening, taking her into his troubles as well 
as his hopes, making her wholly a partner. 

“Those letters from Uncle Weston seemed 
to serve only as red rags, sis. The man is a 
mad bull when he is opposed. He’s almost 
the last of the old tribe of smashers in the 
woods. He seems to think it’s up to him to 
fend off new ideas just as long as possible. 
I’m afraid he can’t be converted; he’ll prob¬ 
ably go down fighting.” 

“You’ll fight back if he fights you?” 

“I must do it. I’ve given a precious hos¬ 
tage to fortune, you know!” He lifted her 
hand and kissed it. 

Two days later, his stock of money reduced 
to the point where only the best of luck 
and fine figuring would take the Misery pro¬ 
ject through, he started again for the north 
woods. 


CHAPTER XVI 


BEFORE the lake steamers began to dis¬ 
charge his goods on the wharf at the carry, 
Richard had arranged for men and bateaux 
between Skulitree and Spectacle dam; and 
he appeared at Spectacle dam with the van¬ 
guard of his flotilla. 

News of his enterprise had gone ahead of 
him. Batterson was at Spectacle, and from 
his own side of the river surveyed the scene 
of activity on the opposite bank, where Hale 
had pitched a temporary depot camp. 

When the “boss’’ saw that the young man 
showed no sign of coming to him, he came to 
the young man. 

Hale checked the first sneering questions. 

“I’m not working for the Telos Company 
now, Mr. Batterson, and I have no informa¬ 
tion to give out about my private business. 
This place is mapped as the town landing in 
this township, and I’m on public ground, and 

tending strictly to my own affairs.” 

166 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 167 

Two or three of the boatmen snickered, 
and Batterson, after a spirited monologue in 
an undertone, poled back. 

Hale decided to stay with his supplies, as 
long as they were in the enemy’s country. 
He sent a messenger through the woods to 
Leadbetter, telling him the good news. 

He was uncertain about the route for sup¬ 
plies, after passing Spectacle dam, but his 
boatmen told him that boats could be used 
from there to the head of Telos and Spec¬ 
tacle lakes, twenty miles, and then by the in¬ 
let stream, which was navigable for some 
six miles farther. From there on to Misery 
he would have to pack the goods by tote- 
teams, for the upper streams were thorough¬ 
fares only for the log-drives in the driving 
season. 

Hale camped beside his precious supolies; 
he received those that came up from Skull- 
tree, and forwarded them up the lake as fast 
as his bateaux became available. 

On the second day Doe came, treading his 
way carefully along the string-piece of the 
dam. He was carrying a bulging meal-sack. 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


168 

“Mr. Hale,” he called, “if you want to 
hire the best cook between Skulltree and 
Telos headquarters,—and that takes in all 
the dough-slingers in these parts,—here’s 
your man!” 

“I don’t want to hire men out from under 
Batterson, Doe. I’m not looking for trou¬ 
ble.” 

“I’m a free man,” Doe declared. “I’m 
discharged—and there isn’t any going back 
of that fact, for I discharged myself. I 
wouldn’t work for John P. Batterson,” he 
raised his voice at this point, “not if he’d 
swap gold pieces for every one of my biscuits. 
And now that I’m over here, on free ground, 
I’ll say that any one else is a fool to work for 
him.” 

Batterson, on the opposite shore, could not 
help hearing, but he gave no sign. 

“I need a cook,” Hale answered, “and I 
know you are a good one. If you’re done 
with the T. C. in earnest, I’ll take you on. 
But I can’t have you slurring past employ- 



LEADBETTER’S LUCK 169 

“There won’t be any slurring,” said Doe, 
and he slung off his meal-sack as a signal that 
he considered himself hired. “There’s no 
good in trying to slur him, because the 
human language hasn’t enough words for 
the purpose.” 

Other volunteers followed Doe’s example, 
but they took the precaution to sneak across 
the stream after dark. 

Hale felt obliged to refuse to hire them. 
“It will seem like stealing his men, boys. I 
can’t afford to have such a word go out.” 

“We know where you are going to oper¬ 
ate,” said one of the men, “and we’ll show 
up at Misery. It’s a free country, and we’ll 
be free men looking for work, and we’ll have 
our bills of time to prove it to you. We don’t 
ask you to promise now to hire us. But we 
shall come along and ask for work. We’ve 
worked for a slave-driver as long as we’re 
going to.” 

Seeing that the question of the labor supply 
would not trouble him in his new venture, 
Hale felt his courage grow. 


170 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


The arrival of Anson Leadbetter, radiant 
and excited by new hopes, cheered him still 
more. 

“Perhaps you think I’ve been slow getting 
down here,” he said, “but I took a run to the 
east, hunting up horses and teamsters. I’ve 
sent them in, and they’ll begin toting our 
supplies the minute the first load hits the 
bank up there. And I’ve rushed in a crew to 
begin on the camps. You know I told you 
that I knew plenty of good men who were 
only waiting for a chance to pitch in with 
us.” 

“There are more across there when we 
need them,” Hale said. He told Leadbetter 
of the visit he had had from the men. 

Doe, with the guileless impudence that 
marked his actions, had placed himself so as 
to overhear what his new employers were 
saying. 

“They all say I’m too fond of grabbing 
in, and probably it’s so,” he admitted. “But 
speaking of Batterson, don’t go to advertis¬ 
ing that you’re fighting him. If you get him 
mad enough, he’ll neglect his own business 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


171 


to attend to yours. And he won’t attend to 
your business in a way to make it healthy.” 

“Probably not, Doe,” agreed Hale. “Each 
man for his own business—an excellent plan 
for every one.” 

“Well said, sir! I do grab in too much. 
But the intention is first-class.” 

With the knowledge that their tote-teams 
were waiting at headwaters for the supplies, 
Hale found enough to occupy his mind and 
time, and he put John Batterson out of his 
thoughts. 

When he had sent up the last load, he 
launched his canoe and started out to join 
Leadbetter, who had been at the front for 
some days as commander of the forces on 
Misery. Doe went along as bow paddle. 

John P. Batterson seemed to the little cook 
an ogre, who threatened the success of the 
enterprise. 

“He’ll ‘goofer’ you if he can,” Doe de¬ 
clared over and over in the course of his 
rambling remarks. “Probably you’ve been 
wondering why. First, on the general prin¬ 
ciples of John P. Batterson. Misery Gore 



172 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


will be a prime plum, when he gets round to 
pick it. He didn’t put ‘Hard-Luck’ Anse 
down and out simply for the fun of it. Fur¬ 
thermore, Mr. Hale, you’ll be going into the 
market with your logs, and you may upset 
the price per thousand feet in this section. 
And John P. Batterson has pushed lumber¬ 
ing figures to a basis where there’s a mighty 
good drag for himself on settlement day.” 

“We’d better mind our own affairs, and 
let Batterson alone, Doe.” 

“Right! But the trouble will be he won’t 
let you alone. I’m only going to say, because 
of my habit of grabbing in where I ain’t 
wanted, that I’m quite a mouser. I can smell 
a snide game a long way off. I’d have hired 
out long ago as a detective, if they had only 
answered my letters when I applied for a 
job. I’m going to watch John P. Batterson 
from now on.” 

“I warn you again, Doe, that I’ll like it 
Better if you attend strictly to your pans and 
kettles.” 

“Oh, I’ll do that, too! You needn’t 
worry.” 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


i73 


Richard Hale found the work at Misery 
Gore going on rapidly. Leadbetter knew his 
precious tract as a scholar knows his book. 
Years before, in his hours of solitude, he had 
planned every detail. He had learned every 
resource of the township. The depot camp 
was completed, and the first loads of supplies 
were stored in it. He had chosen as a site 
for the main camps a plateau close to a small 
brook in the bed of which there was plenty 
of moss for chinking the log walls. The sills 
of the main camps were down, and men were 
peeling logs for the buildings. Others were 
already nailing down hemlock poles for the 
floor of the living camp, and adzing them to 
give a level surface. 

Doe installed himself in a structure made 
of huge sheets of spruce bark, and examined 
his new cook-stove with professional admira¬ 
tion. He informed all listeners that the fare 
on Misery Gore would include every woods 
delicacy, from blueberry biscuits up through 
the list. 

In ten days the buildings were up, chinked 
and battened, and the men had filled their 


174 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


bunks with “spruce feathers/’ and had set 
up housekeeping in earnest. The real work 
of logging began early in September, the 
time at which most woods crews get down to 
business. 

The work of swamping the “whiplash” 
road up the terraces of Misery Gore was even 
less of a task than Leadbetter had expected. 
The big trees were felled to one side, and 
left for the days of snow and “good slip¬ 
ping.” The small trees were used to bridge 
gullies and smooth rough spots. 

During this period of preparation, Hale 
devoted himself to plotting the tract with 
chain and calipers. 

There was to be no wholesale slaughter. 
He marked the trees destined for the ax, 
selecting them as carefully and methodically 
as he knew how, thinning with a scrupulous 
eye to future resources. There was such abun¬ 
dance that he was able to get most of his 
cut close to the road. That meant saving the 
expense of “twitch-teams” to haul logs to 
yards. In most cases the logs could be rolled 
directly on the sleds. It would merely be 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


175 


necessary to “swamp” smaller trees out of the 
path and build skids at the foot of “ram- 
downs,” as the slopes are called where 
trimmed logs are hauled to the main road. 

In spite of Leadbetter’s continued opti¬ 
mism about the untried log-hauler, Hale 
found himself worrying as he made his esti¬ 
mates for the amount of the cut. 

The old man, who was unwilling to lose a 
moment from his dawn-to-dark duties on the 
Gore, had already sent a messenger to clinch 
the bargain for the machine. Stacy, the 
owner, was to send the contrivance in later, 
to be in readiness for the first snow. 

“It will do the trick, Mr. Hale, I tell you 
it will do it,” Leadbetter assured his partner. 
“You can depend on two round trips a day 
from the foot of the slope. In any case, if 
we can’t just do it at the start, we can more 
than make up the average as soon as we get 
into the short hauls. Figure on four months 
of good slipping.” 

“Then we’ll knock down 10,000,000 feet,” 
said Hale. “If you are right about the log- 
hauler, it will do the business for us in one 


176 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

hundred and seventy-five days at the outside, 
figuring only long trips. With the short trips 
to bring down the average, we can cut 
10,000,000 and be well inside our capacity.” 

“My voice shouts for the 10,000,000 cut,” 
declared the old man, stoutly. “Have you 
got that much staked out in your plotting?” 

“Just about,” said Hale. “And the noble 
old Gore can stand that cut without flinching 
a bit. In fact, she needs just that kind of a 
hair-cut. From a forestry point of view, it 
will leave her in better shape than ever. Down 
comes the timber, then! But, O Leadbetter, 
if old ‘Susan Puffer’ goes to work and fails 
us, after all!” 

For a moment, the old man blinked, as if 
he were wondering who this unknown lady 
might be. “‘Susan Puffer!’ By gracious, 
you’ve named her, Mr. Hale! She only 
needed a name, and after you’ve heard her, 
you’ll say that the name fits. Stacy has put 
everything he could think of on her except 
a name and a mortgage. He’s been too busy 
making her to think of a name, and no one 
would let him have money on a mortgage.” 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 177 

Leadbetter sat back on the camp “deacon- 
seat” and laughed. “ ‘Susan Puffer!’ Yes, 
sir, you’ve named her!” 

Leadbetter waited until the September 
frosts presaged snow before he took time for 
a trip down-country. He had two errands 
that only he could perform effectively. He 
wanted to complete the final arrangements 
with Ben Stacy about the log-hauler, and he 
desired to settle the matter of figures and 
terms with the aged survivor of the Winca- 
paw family; his blanket contract needed re¬ 
adjusting with the prices that would per- 
vail when actual operations began. 

He returned from his journey in a state of 
exultation. 

“I guess they never can call me ‘Hard- 
Luck’ Anse any more, Mr. Hale,” he de¬ 
clared. “Ben Stacy himself is coming in to 
operate Susan Puffer for us. When it came 
time to let her go, he couldn’t part with her. 
He said he wasn’t going to have any ordi¬ 
nary engineer monkeying round and discred¬ 
iting his invention. He knows every grunt 
of the old machine, and when he’s on the job 


178 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

it means that she runs. He’s got her apart, 
and she’s on the way.” 

He drew a paper from his pocket and 
placed it in Hale’s hands. 

“But this is the best reading,” he said, and 
his voice trembled. “What they say about 
bread cast on the waters comes true some¬ 
times. I’ve always felt that I’ve been straight 
with the Wincapaws. I was paying them a 
lot of money for something that nobody else 
reckoned very high as an investment, but I 
didn’t take any credit to myself for generos¬ 
ity. It was just business, as I told Aunt 
Esther the other day when she began on me. 
I had to check the old lady up short. She 
was piling it on too thick. I don’t know how 
to act or what to say when any one gets to 
praising me. I never had such a tussle with 
an old lady.” 

“Did she take advantage of us, and run up 
the price?” asked his partner. 

“No, it was worse than that. She wanted 
to throw business all overboard. She went 
on a great long rigmarole about how the 
money I had paid in had kept three old peo- 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


179 


pie in comfort in their last years—just as if 
anybody else wouldn’t have paid good money 
for the contract if they could have looked 
ahead the way I’ve done. She said that at 
ninety and over, she didn’t need any more 
money than the yearly sum I’d been paying 
right along. She wanted to give us this 
stumpage contract for the same old price— 
and we taking off 10,000,000 feet! Why, I 
had to rise up and talk disgraceful to her!” 

“I understand,” said Hale, with feeling. 
“You can’t fool me, good friend. You say 
that anybody else could have looked ahead 
and foreseen the profit here. Judging from 
what I know of the regular system up in 
these woods, any one who could have looked 
ahead and seen anything worth while here, 
would have robbed the old people.” 

“It has been straight business, just the 
same,” insisted Leadbetter. “But the best I 
could do with the old lady is what you’ll find 
in that paper. Neither the lawyer nor I 
could make her listen to reason. Look at it, 
and you’ll see that we are to put a Wincapaw 
memorial window in the little village meet- 


i8o LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

ing-house; we are to put in trust $500 to 
keep the Wincapaw graveyard lot in good 
shape; and we must buy new hymn-books for 
the Sunday-school. For herself she won’t 
take a cent more than the regular sum each 
year that I’ve been paying in. She stuck out, 
in spite of all I could say. Said that the rich 
can’t enter the kingdom of heaven! Beats 
all how old people act when their minds are 
breaking down!” 

“Now that I know Anson Leadbetter, I 
think I can put myself in Esther Wincapaw’s 
place, and understand why she has shown 
these symptoms of lunacy,” said Hale, smil¬ 
ing. 

“Well, if a stumpage contract was ever let 
out on crazier terms than that,” declared 
Leadbetter, tapping the paper, “it must have 
been back when Noah was in the ship-build¬ 
ing business, that’s all I have to say! The 
only consolation is that it’s legal and bind- 

• 5 5 

ing. 

“It seems to be all that.” Hale had been 
examining the document. 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 181 

“Over ninety! She’s that old, eh!” mused 
Richard aloud. 

“And still going strong! Any contract 
with her is a solid one, so the lawyer said. 
‘Sound mind and in command of all her 
faculties,’ says he when he drew up the new 
papers. Guess I hadn’t any right to joke 
about her breaking down.” 

“But life is uncertain—after ninety, my 
friend. How about her heirs?” 

“She hasn’t any.” 

“Then what happens to us if the old lady 
passes over? I hate to talk about death but 
we must consider the thing. This contract 
is for her lifetime, only.” 

Leadbetter continued serene. “We’re all 
set!” 

“She hasn’t willed the Gore to us, has 
she?” 

“Guess she would have done it if I hadn’t 
been a little mite harsh with her. ‘Esther,’ 
says I, ‘I’ve never been named in a will yet, 
and I don’t want to be, as an heir. It might 
spoil my nature. I might find myself pro- 



LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


182 

jicking on how long you’d live. You don’t 
want to start up feelings like that in me, do 
you? And I reckon young Hale feels about 
as I do. Leave us hoping you’ll live to be 
a thousand years old.’ Then she called me 
names and made a pass at me with her cane.” 

There was flicker of fun in Leadbetter’s 
eyes; he seemed to be highly amused by his 
thoughts; he was manifestly dragging out a 
pleasant topic, enjoying the young partner’s 
mystification. 

“Now I’ll come to the point, lad. The 
old lady, listening to reason, has left the 
Gore as her estate and the church she belongs 
to is a trustee, forever and ever, amen. After 
she dies we pay the lease money to the church, 
five hundred a year towards the parson’s 
wages, a yearly hundred for good story books 
for the Sunday school lib’ry, two hundred 
for meeting-house paint and repairs. Eight 
hundred a year!” 

“Why, that rental’s so small it’s ridicu¬ 
lous.” 

“I know it. But I couldn’t make her raise 
the price. She said she didn’t propose to 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 183 

spoil her fellow Christians, lifting ’em up to 
be too proud by reason of having a lot of 
money; it was only right to make ’em scratch 
gravel to pay the rest of the church expenses, 
says she. So, as I figure it, we can take a 
lot of comfort whilst we’re paying money to 
Esther; then later we’ll be working to help 
religion. Can’t always do that in a timber 
proposition. We’re lucky!” 

“I should say so,” agreed Richard glee¬ 
fully, catching the spirit of Leadbetter’s 
humor. 

Then Hale told his partner about Marion’s 
insistent generosity. 

“Beats all about wimmen folks! They’re 
bound to have their own way!” declared 
Leadbetter, after he had listened; he wiped 
moisture from his eyes with the ball of his 
thumb. “We’d work hard, anyway. But 
all this makes the thing more binding.” 

“It makes the job on Misery a sacred trust! 
1 told the Telos directors it would be dan¬ 
gerous business for anybody to get in our way 
up here. I said it so the word will be passed 
to John Batterson.” 


184 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

“It may set him where he belongs. It 
may start him rampaging still more!” A 
hard light came into the old man’s eyes. 
“He’d better be careful. I’d do a lot for 
the sake of good wimmen when I wouldn’t 
do it for myself.” 

“So would I! And now for The Big 
Job!” 

“Just a minute! In some things Esther 
is sort of crazy, I’m afraid.” 

“You can understand how her mind is de¬ 
caying from what I’m going to tell you next,” 
Leadbetter continued. “An agent of John 
P. Batterson had been round to see her. 
Batterson offered her $5,000 for this land, 
and agreed to smash my contract and stand 
all the law bills. And all she did was to 
make passes at the man with her cane. Lan¬ 
guage failed her.” 

Leadbetter put the paper in his wallet. 

“Not a cent is to be paid until we get our 
pay for the logs next season. Partner, let’s 
give three cheers, and get out on our jobs, 
as you say!” 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 185 


Hale gave the cheers in his heart, and hur¬ 
ried away under the whispering trees of 
Misery. The chopping of distant axes and 
the “ur-r-rick, ur-raw,” of cross-cut saws 
seemed the sweetest music he had ever heard. 


CHAPTER XVII 


The crowning sensation on Misery Gore 
was when “Susan Puffer” arrived. She came 
in a disintegrated form, huge hunks of iron, 
wheels, pulleys, gears, and sections of boiler 
strapped on “jumpers,” pulled by sweating 
horses. 

“Wonder what’s the answer?” observed 
Doe, after a survey of the litter of hardware. 

But with the engine came a creative spirit 
who professed that he could bring order out 
of this chaos. The creative spirit was Ben 
Stacy, a bow-legged little man, with a smooch 
of smut on his nose. When all parts had 
been deposited on a plateau near the camp, 
Stacy took his stand in the midst of them 
with confidence. 

Hale watched operations from day to day 

with acute interest. He fully understood that 

the steam log-hauler was essential to success 

on Misery Gore. As he watched Stacy fuss- 

186 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 187 

ing over it, he decided that of all the fear¬ 
fully and wonderfully made contrivances the 
world could offer, this engine surpassed 
everything. She was as uncouth as a steam 
road-roller, and had most of the character¬ 
istics of one. But under her splay wheels 
were jointed “treads” that she could pick up 
behind and lay down in front, making her 
own tracks as she progressed. 

In spite of her cumbrous grotesqueness, she 
was solidly built, with plenty of boiler capac¬ 
ity, and she was geared in a fashion that made 
her a giantess in propelling power. But 
what would she do in actual work on the 
slopes of Misery? 

The first real snow-storm of the season 
came in late October. It was damp, and 
packed itself hard under a final flurry of cold 
rain. Stacy now declared that the log-hauler 
was ready for her trial trip. 

When the red fires were roaring in her 
breast and the breath of steam snorted in her 
nostrils, Stacy climbed to his seat in front 
of her stubby stack, where he managed the 


188 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

throttle and guided the forward pilot-wheels 
by means of a tiller. The fireman was on a 
platform at the rear. 

No human agency could have kept the men 
at work when Susan Puffer was preparing to 
start on her noisy pilgrimage along the ter¬ 
races of Misery Gore. In fact, this journey 
was planned to be an excursion trip along the 
entire route that had been laid out for the 
log-hauler’s winter operations. 

Susan Puffer started. Steam hissed, pistons 
thrust, gears grumbled, and she heaved her¬ 
self up from the snow-bed. She rumblingly 
dipped over the edge of the plateau, and the 
men flocked behind her, shouting their enthu¬ 
siasm. 

She traversed the little gully between the 
plateau and the end of the tote-road, gather¬ 
ing speed and planting her big wheel-feet 
securely. Steadily she tramped her way into 
the tote-road and halted, with the exhaust of 
her pump “suffling” gently and slowly. 

“Hear her, gents,” shouted Stacy, “breath¬ 
ing regular as an infant! She’ll trundle every 
log of this winter’s cut up the side of that 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 189 

hill as easy as a baby juggles jackstraws. And 
if you want to see her paw gravel, hook on 
those sleds and pile aboard.” 

She hauled five sleds that first day, 
loaded with all the men who could stick on. 
The excursion was turned to practical advan¬ 
tage. Whenever Engineer Stacy discovered 
some hollow or hubble in the new road that 
tried Susan’s powers too much, he halted her, 
and the men remedied the difficulty. Clank- 
ingly she laid down her own plank tramway, 
disdaining small inequalities of surface. 
Blasts from her stack shook the tossing 
fronds of the trees above her, and the echoes 
roared away down the forest’s vaulted corri¬ 
dors. 

Hale timed the trip; allowing for the halts, 
he found that Leadbetter’s estimates had 
been right. By making the day a long one, 
with the help of pilot lanterns, Susan Puffer 
would be able to make two round trips if she 
were called upon to do so. 

The next day she began her real work. 
Thirty thousand feet constituted her load, 
four men fitted slash and tops for her fodder, 


■190 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

and planted fuel depots at convenient dis¬ 
tances. 

As snowfall followed snowfall, and the 
road became packed harder under Susan 
Puffer’s broad feet, she picked up her heels 
still more handily. There was no longer any 
doubt of her ability to land 10,000,000 feet 
of logs on the ice and the banks of the “White 
Horse,” ready for the spring flood. 

Soon the operation on Misery was moving 
smoothly; one day was like another, and all 
days were full of busy effort. Susan Puffer 
dominated the scene. 

By means of their remarkable stumpage 
contract, by the possession of the horse-saving 
log-hauler, and on account of other elements 
of the situation, the partners would be able 
to meet any operator’s prices, and cut under 
them. It was not that they were out to slash 
prices; they merely proposed to do business 
as independent operators who were making 
fair profits. They were sure of their figures; 
they had spent many long hours over them 
by lantern-light in the “wangan.” 

One day Jeff Gordon came over the hills, 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


191 

riding on a one-seated “jumper” drawn by 
lively horses in a tandem hitch; with hoots, 
halloos, snatches of songs and snapping whip 
he made a great deal of noise along the 
forest aisles. He made more when he caught 
sight of Richard. 

“I’ve been getting some pretty regular re¬ 
ports about your job here, Dick. Been in¬ 
tending to get around this way before, but 
I’ve a job of my own, you know. So you’ve 
got old Misery giggling at last, hey? You’re 
the lad who has put the ‘go’ into Gore! 
Well, I’m the boy who is taking the ‘con’ 
out of congratulations! Great work, here, 
and I mean it! But this isn’t a class reunion 
or merely a social call for tea. Come into 
the office camp with me, you and your part¬ 
ner, and let’s peel bark on a little business.” 

Leadbetter was proud to meet one of the 
Gordons on such an amicable basis and he so 
declared heartily when he was introduced. 

“What have you done about selling your 
cut?” Jeff demanded, going straight to the 
nub of his business. 

“Nothing!” confessed Richard. “We had 


192 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


to make sure of having something landed on 
driving waters, ready to sell. But now every¬ 
thing is moving well. It’s only within a 
few days I have seen my way clear to run 
down to the city and offer the cut to some 
of the big fellows.” 

“Telos?” 

“I’ve been a bit doubtful.” 

“It’s your best bet. I’m hearing stories. 
All is not so well with those boys. Labor 
troubles, epidemic among the horses—and 
too much Batterson! Now tell me—and you 
know it’s all safe! Have you figured your 
operating costs to the point where you know 
what you’re talking about?” 

“We have. We’ve put a lot of time on it. 
I’m perfectly willing—I’m glad, Jeff, to 
show you our figures.” 

He brought the papers in a locked box 
and young Gordon went over them carefully. 

“Criminy! You certainly found an angel 
when it came to stumpage lease!” 

“We did,” affirmed Leadbetter. 

“You have even shaded our costs and we 
own our tracts and have a wonderful genius 



LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


193 


with modern notions at the head of things,” 
cried Jeff, slapping his chest in order that 
there might be no mistake about the identity 
of the genius. “But I hope you’re not going 
in to break the market.” 

“No! I don’t mean to antagonize the 
Telos or any other of the large concerns.” 

“Good talk! Look here, Dick! Here’s 
your chance to put the real double-cross onto 
John Pooh-bah Batterson—show him up with 
his employers for what he is—help all of 
us to eliminate such an element for good and 
all—pull up the old snag who’s in the way 
of progress these days. You can afford to 
show these figures to the Telos folks if you 
deal with them. At the same time, tell ’em 
they’ll find you a square dealer as to the 
general market. That fixes you with the big 
chaps. Then it’s all up to Batterson! His 
own folks will spike him if he tries funny 
business on the drive. But why drive inde¬ 
pendent? I’ve brought an offer. Dad is 
with me in it. Join drives with us!” 

“It’s too much to ask!” 

Jeff grinned. “If you think I’m taking 



194 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


you in as a charity patient, you’re all wrong, 
Dick. No free gifts up in these woods! All 
business! I’m asking something for the Gor¬ 
dons. You stand well with the Telos folks, 
and I know it. They believe in your honesty 
even if they did think you were misguided 
when you jacked your job. Your uncle is a 
director.” 

“But I’m afraid he doesn’t favor me very 
much.” 

“Get out! He’s proud of you by this time. 
You’re his own kind, his own blood. It’s a 
good string and you’ve got to pull on it. If 
we join drives on logs, youVe got to join 
drives on a sale deal. Will you?” 

“I’ll do it, Jeff.” 

“Go and trade with the Telos for the two 
cuts—make one deal of it. Sign a contract 
to deliver thirty millions—yours and ours. 
Dad and I will go good on the bond. Have 
you money enough to see you through?” 

Richard and Leadbetter swapped glances. 
The money matter had been bothering them. 
No amount of advance figuring could take 
care of the uncertainties of woods’ opera- 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


l 9S 


tions when, as on Misery, new and untried 
conditions were involved. Marion’s dollars 
and Richard’s savings had been thriftily 
spent but the outlay had been more than the 
partners had anticipated; men had been 
obliged to ask for advances on account of 
unexpected family needs; fresh supplies and 
extra gear had been called for; the new firm 
had no rating and was obliged to pay cash. 

“I see you haven’t!” blurted the blunt 
Jeff. “The Gordons will make a cash ad¬ 
vance on your cut as it lies. That spells 
hustle for you, Dick!” 

“I hate to take it! It injects the element 
of friendship and makes the responsibility 
tremendous, Jeff. It’s bad enough as it is. 
I’ll be frank. My sister handed over to me 
all her money—I told you about that money 
one day at Craigmore.” 

“Good enough! She has faith in your 
honest ability, Dick, just as I have. Now 
what you have to do is to spread yourself 
to the best of your ability and sell something 
to the Telos folks. Frankly, the Gordons 
can do better through another party like 


196 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

yourself. The old grudges persist up here in 
the woods. By offering one bite at the apple 
the thing can be put through much better for 
all hands. And the general combination will 
remove the last element of fight on the wa¬ 
ters. I want to see what will happen to Bat- 
terson in the new deal. Good rivermen are 
afraid of the key-log which starts a jam; I’ve 
always been afraid of Batterson. Here’s 
your chance. Do you take it?” 

“I do! I start for town in the morning.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


Hale hurried to his uncle’s office first of 
all, and found an interested listener. 

“Thirty million feet for the market, hey?” 
cried his uncle. “Well, my boy, I know 
where your market will be. The Telos Com¬ 
pany will take the combined cut. We need 
those logs. It is indiscreet to reveal our 
affairs to a rival operator,” he continued, 
with a smile, “but we have met several little 
setbacks on our own lands. Batterson has 
been having a great amount of labor troubles. 
He has sent down some particularly bitter 
reports about your interference with his 
crew.” 

“I most emphatically plead not guilty, sir. 
Leadbetter had most of our men hired early 
from among his friends. I have taken on a 
few men who came to us, but they were free 
to hire. Batterson is a tyrant and a slave- 
driver, and men will not stay with him.” 

Hale knew more about the inside affairs of 

197 


198 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

the Telos Company logging department than 
he felt disposed to tell his uncle just then. 
He had met talkative men on the way down, 
and he knew that the principal cause of com¬ 
plaint on the Telos operations was that the 
men were half-starved. These persons said 
that Batterson was drawing plenty of provi¬ 
sions from his employers, but that his greed 
for money had gone to greater lengths than 
ever, and that he was selling these provisions 
and pocketing the money. 

“It has been a hard winter for us,” Mr. 
Weston Hale said. “Some kind of an epi¬ 
demic got among our horses, and we haven’t 
more than half the usual amount of logs on 
the landings—so our scalers report. 

“I’ve urged an investigation for some 
weeks. Now I shall move in the matter my¬ 
self. And the question I shall ask Batterson 
is why two new men can come to us with a 
price on their logs more than ten per cent, 
lower than logs are costing us from our own 
lands. And you are allowing for a snug 
profit!” 

“Our stumpage-” 



LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


199 

“It’s a point in your favor, of course—but 
it does not explain the discrepancy, for we 
own our lands. Furthermore, so you tell me, 
the Gordons are able to trail with you on 
prices. I don’t want to embroil you in trou¬ 
ble with our boss up there, but now that you 
have quoted prices, it becomes a strictly busi¬ 
ness matter. And I have learned a few 
other things that I should like to have Bat- 
terson explain to me as a stockholder. He 
has been told to attend the annual meeting 
next month.” 

Hale heard this with the liveliest interest. 

“Of course this is between us as uncle and 
nephew,” Mr. Hale went on. “As a partner 
in the Misery Gore operation, you will 
please forget what I have said.” 

“I am quite anxious to keep out of any 
possible trouble with John Batterson,” an¬ 
swered Hale, “and to keep his business as far 
from mine as I can. If the company will 
take our logs, I’ll hurry back to my work. 
There’s plenty of it waiting for me.” 

“Some stockholders think that the old 
board has left too much to Batterson. We’re 


200 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


going to have a reorganization. You need 
have no fear—we’ll take your logs.” 

Hale made quick time on his return journey 
to Misery. The roads over the frozen waters 
were smooth, and the crisp chirp of the run¬ 
ners of his jumper and the jingle of the har¬ 
ness-bells were in tune with his lively 
thoughts. 

The tote-roads were now in prime winter 
condition. An hour after dark on the first 
day’s journey north, Hale swung into the 
yard of the Half-Way House with the com¬ 
fortable feeling that he would be on his own 
logging-grounds at a seasonable hour the next 
afternoon. 

The Half-Way House was a woods hostelry 
for the winter wayfarers to and from the 
timber tracts. It had its usual crowd of over¬ 
night guests. Supper was under way when 
he arrived, and he found a place at the long 
table. As he took his first potatoes from the 
heaped dish in front of him, he glanced up 
the line of wagging chins toward the head 
of the table. There, like a baron, presiding 
at the feast, sat John P. Batterson, gazing 



LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


201 


malevolently at him. Every time he glanced 
that way, as he ate, he met the same basilisk 
stare. 

Hale was at the table after the others had 
straggled out to the general room. When he 
went out in his turn, he found Batterson 
posted near the door to the dining-room, 
with his legs set well apart, a scowl on his 
forehead, and a toothpick set in the corner 
of his mouth. 

“Just up from down-country, hey?” said 
the “boss.” He did not moderate his rough 
tones, and at once the buzz of the men’s 
voices in the big room ceased. 

“I have been down to the city for a few 
days,” answered Hale. 

“I don’t need your word for it. I knew 
you had been there by the kind of talk I got 
over the telephone this morning. I knew the 
spy had been there with his budget. You’ve 
done plenty of talking behind my back down 
there. Any sneak can do that, to hurt a man 
with those who hire him. But now you’re 
up here, man to man! Talk to my face, you 
stockholder’s pet, you!” 


202 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


The listeners had formed in a circle. 

“I have nothing to say to you, Mr. Batter- 
son. I’m no longer with the T. C.” 

“Only dare to talk behind my back, hey? 
That’s your caliber. Prefer to talk behind 
my back about me, do you?” 

“I mean to say I have no talk to make to 
you in order to furnish a show for the public. 
And I’m not aware that I have any business 
with you that needs to be talked over. You’ll 
have to excuse me. I’m going to bed.” 

He pushed past Batterson, who was de¬ 
claiming again, made his way through the 
circle of listeners, and climbed the rough 
stairs. As he went, he heard a description of 
himself from the boss that made his ears 
burn; his teeth were set hard when he turned 
in at his room. He had a healthy desire to 
cuff that old blusterer’s ears, and he con¬ 
gratulated himself that he had come away 
when he did. 

Hale rose before light, anxious to avoid 
any collision with Batterson. He was first 
into the dining-room and the first to finish. 
Batterson did not appear. That was not sur- 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


203 


prising, for the dawn was hardly red in the 
frosty east when breakfast was served, and 
most of those who ate at the first table were 
drivers and hostlers. 

Before the sun was high enough to dissolve 
the frost-bells on the spruce fronds, Hale was 
well along the tote-road, out of sight and 
sound of the Half-Way House. 

Batterson’s prompt antagonism at their 
first meeting had astonished the young man. 
Now Hale understood better why the boss 
had displayed that enmity, and why its acri¬ 
mony had increased. It was the old story of 
a guilty conscience needing no accuser. John 
Batterson, placed in control as sole executive, 
had abused his opportunities, and all his sus¬ 
picion and resentment had at once centered 
on the first person who appeared to threaten 
his hold. A forester would understand the 
butchery of the timber; a stockholder’s 
nephew was too close to headquarters! 

Hale swung round a curve where drifts 
and crowding trees closely hemmed the way 
—and there was Batterson, on the seat of 
his jumper. The jumper and the horse 


204 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


were drawn across the narrow way, barring 
it as effectually as a gate. Hale pulled up. 

Only Batterson’s thin nose and hard eyes 
showed over the breath-frosted edge of his 
fur collar. He glared at Hale, and his whip¬ 
lash marked fantastic curves on the white 
expanse of the snow as he nervously slashed 
here and there. 

“I guess you weren’t looking for me to 
meet you out here,” began Batterson. 

“No, I thought I was up and away early 
enough to avoid you.” 

“I’ve got a little private business to trans¬ 
act with you. You’ve been down-river and 
lied about me to the T. C. folks. You don’t 
deny it, do you?” 

“I do.” 

“How did they know anything about any 
mix-up here on this forestry fubduddle un¬ 
less you went cry-babying down there?” 

“I didn’t lie and I didn’t cry-baby. I 
told my uncle some months ago the straight 
facts about why I was forced to give up 
my job.” 

“And you’ve been telling a whole lot 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 205 

more! Hold on! I don’t let a tenderfoot 
bluff me out of what I know. There never 
was any trouble about my methods until you 
came along—and I smelled you coming! 
You’ve reported me to headquarters—all 
lies! You’ve stolen away my men. Now I 
get a straight tip you’re trying to break the 
market on log prices. The thing comes to 
a clinch between you and me right here and 
now.” 

Hale thought a moment while Batterson 
was choking with expletives. He broke in on 
the boss’s speech. 

“There’s no use arguing with you, Mr. 
Batterson, or protesting to you. You’re de¬ 
termined not to believe what I say. There is 
no business between us of any kind. This is 
a free road. Swing your horse. I’m in a 
hurry.” 

“There is business between us. There’s a 
directors’ meeting scheduled, and enough has 
been said to me over the telephone to show 
me the pack of lies I’ll be up against. You’ve 
got to go to headquarters and take back what 
you said about me.” 


206 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


“I have not one word to take back, Mr. 
Batterson. In whatever talk I had concern¬ 
ing you, I stated only what happened to me 
personally—to explain my inability to do 
what I was sent up here to do. It was my 
report. It is now in writing and in the 
hands of the board. Such a statement was 
demanded from me as an employee. You 
have never made any explanation of your 
treatment of me. I suppose you have re¬ 
served it for the T. C. people.” 

Batterson pointed his whip at Hale. 

“You won’t do what I tell you to do?” 
he said. “You’ll let me go down there and 
be stabbed by that statement of yours?” 

Hale advanced without answering. Bat¬ 
terson held up a hand, huge in its mitten. 

“I’m giving you a chance. I can squash 
you flat. I can put you down and out. I’ll 
bury you and Hard-Luck Anse deeper than 
the roots of old Tumbledick Mountain. Take 
the chance I offer you, and go down to head¬ 
quarters and take back what you said.” 

“Mr. Batterson, you’re a business man, 
with ten times the experience I have had.” 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 207 

Batterson grunted contemptuously. 

“Why do you ask of me what you wouldn’t 
dare to ask of a man of experience in busi¬ 
ness?” 

“Bah!” said the boss. 

“And now you threaten to ruin us.” 

“You’ve got to straighten this thing at 
headquarters!” Batterson declared, angrily. 

“I’d have to lie to do that. Mr. Batterson, 
I’ve endured this abuse from you just as long 
as human nature can stand it. I demand 
right of way here.” 

He started his horse. There was no mis¬ 
taking his temper and his resoluteness. 

Batterson swung his horse, and Hale took 
the side of the road in a smother of snow. 

“You get no pity from me after this!” Bat¬ 
terson shouted, while Hale was still within 
hearing distance. “You’ve asked for what 
you’re going to get, and you’ll get it.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


THAT afternoon Hale reached Misery 
Gore. In the evening he sat down with 
Leadbetter in the store camp, and gave the 
details of his trip to the city. He ended by 
relating his adventures with John P. Batter- 
son. 

“An old fellow up here always growled 
when a day was particularly bright,” said 
Leadbetter. “He said it was a weather- 
breeder. I’ve had so much hard luck, Mr. 
Hale, that all this good luck sort of scares 
me. Perhaps we need one big black cloud 
like Batterson.” 

“We have influence behind us now, and 
we’ll call on it if Batterson tries to interfere 
with us,” Hale declared. 

“We’ll keep on, Mr. Hale, and mind our 
own business. There doesn’t seem to be 
much that he can do to us—but I know the 
man.” 

In those midwinter days, Leadbetter’s 

208 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


209 


cribwork on White Horse occupied much 
time. The ice had dammed the water above 
the gorges, and left a fine chance for work. 
As the building of the new sluices went on, 
it was plain that Leadbetter had devised a 
unique plan to tame the ferocity of White 
Horse. The material for the cribwork lay 
at hand—logs that had resisted Leadbetter’s 
efforts when he had tried unsuccessfully to 
drive the stream in the earlier days. 

Those first attempts to harness White 
Horse had failed because he had used the 
old-fashioned methods of driving. White 
Horse was a succession of “jumps,” for this 
side of Misery Mountain was terraced in 
much the same manner as the opposite side, 
where the lumbering was going on. Between 
the jumps the mountain shelves held the 
waters of the stream in short stretches of 
dead-water, or in slow-moving eddies. Here 
and there in the descent a hold-dam re¬ 
strained the current to make the water avail¬ 
able as it was wanted and there were several 
“splash-dams,” built to direct the current and 
guide the logs. 



210 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


Those were remnants of the old works. 
The main defect of the earlier plan was in 
the sluices that bridged the jumps. When 
the water had been turned on from the hold- 
dams and the logs were moving, the sluices 
overflowed, for the pitch was steep, and the 
water came down in uncontrollable volume. 
For most of the way the sluices were shallow 
canons between the ledges. The logs, borne 
high on the rushing torrent, jumped the 
track like unruly railway-cars, or jackstrawed 
into inextricable masses of timber. Human 
arms could not move these masses, and to 
use dynamite meant too great a waste of 
logs. 

Now, taking advantage of the dry bed, 
Leadbetter built lanes with log walls down 
the middle of these sluices. 

Here and there were natural receptacles 
for the ends of his uprights, pot-holes that 
whirling pebbles had worked in the rocky 
bed of the stream. These holes were not 
regularly placed; but with dynamite he made 
other holes to supplement those nature had 
provided. Between the uprights the work- 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


211 


men bolted parallel logs, each “chocked” 
apart from its neighbor a few‘inches. Lead- 
better declared that these gaps in the sides of 
the sluices would solve the difficulty of driv¬ 
ing the White Horse. The sluices could not 
overflow, and the logs could not be thrown 
out upon the ledges. The surplus water 
would gush through the sides of the crib- 
work, but enough of the stream would flow 
between the log walls to carry the drive 
safely down the mountainside to the waters 
of the main stream. 

A thaw—one of those sudden changes that 
mark almost every winter—came after the 
cribwork had been finished. The waters 
roared for a day or so, as if nature had de¬ 
termined to test this new scheme for conquer¬ 
ing one of her strongholds. 

After that thaw there was no longer any 
doubt in Hale’s mind in regard to the prac¬ 
ticability of Leadbetter’s driving device. The 
cribwork had tamed the White Horse! The 
freshet exposed the weakness of a few sec¬ 
tions and carried away some logs, but it gave 
Leadbetter a chance to see his mistakes; and 


212 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


after the wa f er had subsided and the frost 
had sealed it again, he rebuilt the faulty 
places more strongly. 

With the advance from the Gofdons, Hale 
found his little capital serving _iis purposes 
well. His heaviest outlay had been at the 
start. He was avoiding the usual chief ex¬ 
pense in woods operations—hay and grain 
for a large force of horses. “Susan Puffer” 
was eating the by-product of the work, and 
doing valiant service every day. Dozens of 
logging-men made special trips to Misery to 
see this economical wonder of the woods; 
and Stacy’s proposed manufacturing company 
was already forming—thanks to responsible 
men who had offered capital. 

Another reason why Hale was able to do 
so much with his funds was because Lead- 
better had selected men who were willing, 
and in most cases preferred, to take their 
season’s pay in a lump sum soon after the 
logs were down. None of the labor troubles 
that beset John Batterson that season showed 
their heads on Misery Gore. 

Doe ascribed the contentment of the men 



LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


213 


to his bill of fare. He mentioned this fact 
humbly to Hale one day, when his employer 
asked him if he ever took time to rest. 

“A really good cook sleeps standing up, 
like a horse sir. The less a man sleeps, the 
better cook he is. I’m the best cook I know 
of. The only ‘out’ I’ve got is my habit of 
grabbing in on other folks’ business where I 
ain’t wanted. And speaking of that weak¬ 
ness, a fellow was along here the other day 
who said that John P. Batterson came back 
from down-country a while ago in a state 
of mind that the human language hasn’t got 
words for. He said that Batterson was shout¬ 
ing round that you spied on him and re¬ 
ported lies to the T. C., and that your uncle 
is out to do him, and that you are breaking 
the log market in this state, and that you 
are-” 

“Hold on, Doe, I don’t care for any more 
gossip! I have kept out of Batterson’s af¬ 
fairs as much as I could.” 

“You’re right, sir,” agreed Doe, with his 
accustomed meekness. “It’s a failing in any 
man to be messing—I wish I didn’t have 




LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


214 

that failing. But I reckon it’s ingrown in 
me.” 

Before the winter was over, Hale had al¬ 
most forgotten that he was a forester. He 
had finished that part of his work in the fall. 
Afterward he had put his strength to any¬ 
thing that would further the work on Misery. 
Toiling with cant-dog at the crib-work, he 
had seconded his partner’s expert efforts. He 
had put the big “scarfs,” or notches, into 
trees before the cross-cut saws began on them 
—for the big notch directs the fall of the 
tree, and if the log is to be handled without 
horses, the fall is important. He had 
studied the quirks and crochets of Susan 
Puffer, and had relieved the overworked 
Stacy, who would entrust his treasure to no 
other man. 

Thus he toiled until the March sun began 
to light the work for ten hours during the 
day; until the snow began to melt upon the 
exposed slopes, and the white garment of 
winter was torn and frayed here and there; 
until the waters began to bubble and murmur 
more loudly under the icy armor of White 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


215 


Horse, where the great piles of odorous logs 
were heaped to await the hour when the 
blackened ice would give way and tumble 
them into the torrent. 

One day, late in the afternoon, Hale found 
two men waiting for him outside the “wan- 
gan” when he walked back to camp from 
his work. As Hale passed the “dingle,” or 
open shed near the kitchen door, Doe had 
called his attention to them. 

“I can’t get anything out of them as to 
their business, sir. And you know I’ve got 
quite a way with me! I’ve had to fall back 
on my own suspicions. That dark-complected 
one is old Cap’n Kidd, and t’other one is 
‘Rollo the Rover.’ They’re pirates of some 
kind, all right. My biscuits scorched just 
before they showed in sight. Sure cook’s 
sign of something evil!” 

One of the strangers was elderly, tall and 
sallow; a bristly mustache that was palpably 
darkened with dye gave him a cheap look. 
The other was a younger man, smartly 
dressed beneath his fur coat. He advanced 


2l6 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


to meet Hale, and held out a card that read, 
“P. R. Blunt, Attorney at Law.” 

“We’ll step inside with you somewhere,” 
said Mr. Blunt, with a certain offensive posi¬ 
tiveness. 

When they were inside the store camp, the 
lawyer introduced his companion: “My 
client, Mr. Daniel Wincapaw.” 

The name astonished Hale. It was an 
uncommon one, and he had never heard it 
except from Leadbetter. He had understood 
from his partner that old Esther Wincapaw 
was the last of the family. 

“You seem to be doing quite a lively busi¬ 
ness on this township,” began Mr. Winca¬ 
paw, dryly. “A very lively business.” 

“Yes, we are pretty busy,” replied the 
young man. 

“And you’re busy on my land, where you 
haven’t any rights—not one, do you under¬ 
stand?” 

“No, sir, I don’t understand.” 

“Then I’ll proceed to beat it into your 
head, Mr. Richard Hale—I believe that’s 
your name! I’m the sole owner of this land, 



LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


217 


and any contracts you have made with any 
person are not worth the paper they’re writ¬ 
ten on.” 

Mr. Wincapaw threw off his fur coat and 
sat down with an air of being perfectly at 
home. Before Richard Hale could put any 
questions, the door of the camp opened, and 
Anson Leadbetter came in. Doe had met 
him on his return from the woods and had 
dropped some disquieting hints in regard to 
the strangers. 

“I’m glad you’ve come!” cried Hale. 
“Leadbetter, here is a man who claims to 
own this township of Misery. He claims 
that his name is Daniel Wincapaw. He 
claims-” 

“Put it right—put it right!” broke in the 
man at whom Hale was pointing his finger. 
“I’m not claiming. I’m asserting. I am 
Daniel Wincapaw, and I do own this town¬ 
ship.” 

He cocked the end of his dyed mustache 
between his finger and thumb, and looked 
from one to the other of the partners with 
a triumphant leer. 



2l8 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


“There isn’t any such man as Daniel Win- 
capaw,” declared Leadbetter; but his voice 
shook, and lacked the ring of conviction. 

“But here he is” declared the stranger, 
patting his breast. “Hold on one minute, 
Mr. Leadbetter. I believe that’s your name! 
Since I’ve been back in this state, looking 
up my affairs, I’ve got full information of 
all your dickerings with Esther Wincapaw. 
You have got what you call a contract with 
her. You had one with old Jabez and Eben 
when they were alive—But they didn’t have 
any right to sell something that never be¬ 
longed to them. 

“I tell you they did have the right!” 
shouted Leadbetter. “I looked up the titles. 

This is a Revolutionary grant, and I-” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking 
about!” sneered the other. “I’m the only 

one of the family who has rights. I am-” 

“Hold on, gentlemen!” protested Mr. 
Blunt. The lawyer had been eyeing his 
client apprehensively during his outbreak— 
at least Hale thought his expression showed 
uneasiness. 




LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


219 


“I am a lawyer,” he said, “and I can 
state the thing just as it is. The original 
grant was made to Malachi Wincapaw, who 
held a commission as sergeant in the Con¬ 
tinental forces.” 

“I know that,” said Leadbetter, whose 
heat had not moderated. It was being borne 
in on him what this amazing claim might 
mean. “And it came from Malachi to his 
cousins and down through to Jabez and the 
others.” 

“There’s just where you are mistaken,” 
said Mr. Blunt. “It was simply taken for 
granted when Malachi died in the West that 
he had left no family. Communication 
wasn’t frequent in those days, and Malachi’s 
heirs out there in Kansas didn’t know for 
certain that the old man had any property 
East, and so the matter rested on a general 
misunderstanding. 

“I’m only stating bare facts now, gentle¬ 
men,” the lawyer went on. “I’ll produce 
the papers just as soon as they are needed. 
What I say is, this property never belonged 
to the cousins of Malachi Wincapaw, for 


220 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


Malachi Wincapaw had heirs of his own, 
and this gentleman here is his great-great- 
grandson. He is the last Wincapaw of the 
line, and owns this township.” 

“You bet I own it!” exclaimed his client. 
Mr. Blunt checked him with an expressive 
frown. 

“It is only by chance that Mr. Wincapaw 
is here now. He happened to read in one of 
the Western papers about the wonderful suc¬ 
cess of a make-shift steam log-hauler on a 
lumber tract in this Eastern state, and in the 
course of the article—probably copied from 
some paper this way—the name of Winca¬ 
paw was mentioned as that of the owner of 
the township. It is such an uncommon name 
that it caught my client’s eye; he remem¬ 
bered a family tradition about his ancestor’s 
having a land grant, and he came East to 
look it up, and engaged me—and here we 
are! That’s the story in a nutshell.” 

“Well, you’ll have to prove it!” declared 
Hale, although his heart was sick within him. 

“Of course,” returned Mr. Blunt, politely. 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


221 


“That will all come about in due season and 
in due process of law.” 

“Process of law!” gasped Leadbetter. He 
looked ten years older than when he had 
entered the camp. “I know what the law is! 
Process of law! That means forever and a 
day! I know all I want to know about your 
law! I’ve had law, law, law, all my life! 
Waiting for law, and 10,000,000 feet of logs 
on the edge of the White Horse and the 
spring rains due!” 

“Exactly, but the 10,000,000 feet are my 
client’s. You have stripped his land without 
right or justice on your side.” 

For fully five minutes there was silence in 
the little room. Hale and Leadbetter, with 
knotted brows, sat looking at each other, 
trying to think the thing out, trying to adjust 
themselves to the situation, trying to look the 
disaster in the face. It seemed too awful to 
be real. 

“There have been a number of cases of this 
kind in the state in past years,” said the law¬ 
yer. “I have been looking up precedents. 


222 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


Probably the uncertainty of the title is the 
reason why this tract was not snapped up by 
purchase long ago.” 

“But I tell you the Wincapaws would 
have known if they had relatives out West!” 
cried Leadbetter, desperate in his despair, de¬ 
termined not to believe. “They never heard 
of any relatives. No one ever suggested that 
there were any others of the family except 
themselves. I’ve paid money to them right 
along. Old Esther would never have taken 
a cent that didn’t belong to her.” 

“They were mistaken, that’s all,” said Mr. 
Blunt, coolly. “They simply didn’t know. 
They always lived down there in a pint bowl, 
as you might say. Lots of other families 
have been surprised by having the long-lost 
pop up all of a sudden.” 

“I’ll go to old Esther as soon as horse-flesh 
and steam can get me there!” the old man 
declared, doggedly. “She’ll knock your story 
to pieces.” 

“Go ahead,” said the lawyer. “We’ve been 
there already. Of course you couldn’t expect 
her to recognize her kinsman, but you may 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


223 


be sure she couldn’t swear that he wasn’t 
Malachi Wincapaw’s descendant—and I’ll 
tell you confidentially that the old lady is 
pretty much broken up over the thing. No 
wonder! If you can get any satisfaction out 
of a visit to her, run down! We are not 
objecting—rather the contrary. After you’ve 
seen her you’ll be more willing to quit.” 

“Quit!” shouted Hale, now in a passion. 
“This man comes sneering here,” he bent a 
malevolent gaze on the heir, who was twirl¬ 
ing his painted mustache, “and claims the 
fruits of our winter’s work—all that we’ve 
struggled and frozen and slaved for through 
frost and snow. It isn’t right!” 

“The law doesn’t take all those things into 
account,” remarked the lawyer. 

The young man pondered a while, trying 
to check the whirl of his thoughts. 

“Mr. Wincapaw,” he said finally, “before 
proceeding to the proof of your claims, I’d 
like to have a little understanding with you 
about our cut here this winter. I have al¬ 
ready contracted for the sale of the logs at a 
stated price. Will you allow us to move 





224 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


them at a stumpage figure that will let us out 
with a fair profit?” 

“I won’t make any kind of a contract with 
you,” said Mr. Wincapaw, defiantly. “You 
have come on my property without any right, 
and you would have robbed me of the whole 
thing if good luck hadn’t given me the hint. 
You started in by turning up your nose at 
me and what you called my claims! Claims, 
hey? I’ll show you what they are. You get 
off here!” 

Hale leaped up. 

“I never heard of such an attitude in 
business,” he said. “If you want your money 
for the damage we’ve done, we’ll pay it. 
But you don’t mean to ruin us, do you?” 

“I mean to put an injunction on those logs. 
Not a stick goes down. When my case is 
proved in the courts, I’ll take ’em myself. 
They’re mine. You didn’t have any business 
coming on my land till you found out what 
you were about. Out West they shoot claim- 
jumpers. You’re lucky to get off with your 
hides whole. But you’ve got to get off.” 

Hale turned to the lawyer. 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


225 


“This man is apparently acting out of pure 
malice. If we’re on his land, we’re here un¬ 
intentionally. What is there behind this? If 
an injunction is put on those logs, it will 
hold up our drive. I know how slowly the 
courts move. I have many thousands of dol¬ 
lars to pay for labor in the spring. What 
kind of a trick is this to play on an honest 
man—hold up his logs?” 

“If you want legal advice, you’d better 
hire another lawyer,” Blunt said. “I’m en¬ 
gaged by Mr. Wincapaw.” 

“I shall put the injunction on the logs as 
soon as the sheriff can get along here with the 
papers,” insisted the heir. “I was thinking 
some of putting an injunction on tools and so 
forth, for wear and tear. But if you move 
quick, I may let you lug ’em off. You’ve 
got to move quick, though.” 

“I’ll take your advice about the other law¬ 
yer, Mr. Blunt,” Hale said, turning his back 
on the Wincapaw heir. “In the meantime, 
there doesn’t seem to be anything more to 
say on either side.” 


226 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


But the lawyer and his client did not take 
his hint to depart. 

On the contrary, Mr. Blunt announced 
coolly that they proposed to stay for a few 
days, in order to look over the amount of 
damage that had been done, and to make 
sure that the property was not molested any 
more. 

“I’d like to see you drive me off my own 
land,” declared Wincapaw. “And seeing 
that these camps are mine, built of my own 
logs, I’ll stow myself where it’ll be most com¬ 
fortable to me.” 

He went out, followed by Blunt, and in a 
few moments the partners heard him calling 
to the cook to give him something to eat. 


CHAPTER XX 


For the first half-hour, the conversation be¬ 
tween Hale and Leadbetter was doleful and 
disjointed. The blow had fallen heavily and 
quickly; they could not recover from it in a 
moment. Doe came to the door to tell them 
that supper was ready. They asked him to 
bring it to them there. The prospect of 
meeting the two strangers in the other camp 
was not tempting. 

“If that drive doesn’t go down, Leadbetter, 
we stand beholden to these men for their win¬ 
ter’s wages, for the hire of the log-hauler— 
and where the money is to come from I don’t 
know! It’s ruin! Of Marion and the Gor¬ 
dons I don’t dare to think!” 

“I reckon that John P. Batterson has bor¬ 
rowed that man from Tophet for this occa¬ 
sion,’* said Leadbetter. 

“Do you suspect he is a fraud?” 

“I don’t know what he is. But if that 
man can show enough of a case to get an 

227 


228 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


injunction on our moving the cut, it means 
that we are ruined. It’s the same old story 
for me. Probably he’s Wincapaw, all right. 
He claims to have his papers.” 

When Doe brought their food, his air of 
suppressed excitement showed that the news 
of the calamity had leaked out. 

“If half of the big talk that Cap’n Kidd 
is making out yonder to the men is true,” he 
said, “you’ll need more than spring medicine 
to perk up your appetites, gents.” 

“So he is trying to stampede our crew, is 
he?” Hale asked. 

“Don’t know what he is trying to do to 
’em, but they won’t stampede right away— 
not with their winter’s wages due. If you 
want me to announce to ’em that they’ll get 
a speech from the throne pretty quick, I’ll so 
report,” volunteered Doe. “Not meaning to 
grab in, but only wishing to be helpful.” 

“We can attend to our business without 
any help,” replied Hale, at the limit of his 
endurance. 

“Most likely,” returned the unabashed 
Doe. “I’ll attend to mine, too. I’ve been 



LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


229 


advising the boys to put their workmen’s 
lien on the logs. It may mean quite a spell 
of waiting if the drive doesn’t go down this 
spring, but there’s nothing like looking 
ahead.” 

“I’ll add my own word to that advice, 
Doe,” said Hale. “You may tell them I’m 
going outside for legal advice, and I’ll help 
them in putting their lien on. I didn’t mean 
to be short with you, but this is bitter trou¬ 
ble Leadbetter and I are in.” 

“I’ve walked round Cap’n Kidd twenty- 
seven times to date,” said Doe. “I’m view¬ 
ing him from all points of the compass. 
You never can tell, you know,” he added, 
mysteriously. But he only shook his head 
when Hale questioned him, and hurried 
away. 

“That’s the most chronic case of messing 
in other people’s affairs I’ve ever met,” said 
Hale. “I hope he doesn’t set our crew by 
the ears with his hints and his sea-lawyer 
foolishness.” 

“I’ll hold ’em in line until you get back; I 
feel I can do that much,” replied Leadbetter. 


230 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


Hale was ready to start out at daybreak, 
after Doe had served him with a hasty break¬ 
fast. 

“I’ll keep walking round him, Mr. Hale,” 
said the cook. “You don’t know what I 
mean, but it’s no matter. I won’t tell you, 
for you’d think I was grabbing in.” 

Hale made no comment on Doe’s cryptic 
utterances. His own thoughts occupied his 
mind. As he journeyed, his despair became 
blacker, and he came to his uncle in the city, 
haggard and woebegone. 

“I’ll not tell you that I expected this,” 
said the man of business, when he had heard 
the dismal tale. “But there’s always a chance 
of some such complication in regard to tim¬ 
ber lands. So I am not particularly aston¬ 
ished, though I am sorry for your sake, my 
Boy. When Batterson was here he let drop 
some hints that you might run against a snag 
of this kind. He said Misery would have 
been bought up long ago if the title had been 
clear. I didn’t pay much attention to him. 
But I know of similar cases. On Long Pond 
plantation McDowell lost every cent he had 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


231 


in the world when a real heir came along. 
This Wincapaw may be a real heir. I’ll take 
you to my lawyer. But when you get into 
law you must be prepared to resign yourself 
to delays.” 

The interview with the lawyer did not 
bring much consolation to Hale. The law¬ 
yer said that the court would probably grant 
the alleged heir a temporary injunction. He 
advised Hale not to oppose that too strongly, 
for such a contest would only delay the affair, 
and, of course, extra delays would settle the 
fate of the drive that season, no matter which 
way the case eventually went. 

To prepare for the hearing on the perma¬ 
nent injunction, they must collect evidence 
that the stranger was not a rightful heir. 
That meant making an investigation in the 
West. The lawyer drew attention to the fact 
that Wincapaw seemed to have little regard 
for Hale’s interests. His action in block¬ 
ing the drive showed that. “The logs would 
be worth all the more to him if they were 
down-river, but he is apparently ugly,” the 
lawyer said. 


232 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


“Or else there’s some plot behind it all, 
simply for the sake of ruining Richard and 
his partner,” said Hale’s uncle. “Their 
manoeuvers look suspicious to me.” 

“Suspicions must be proved in law. I’ll 
do my best to help you prove them. We’ll 
make them hurry the hearing for the tempo¬ 
rary injunction, take what proofs they put 
forward at that time, and I’ll set my Western 
correspondents at work. We can do no 
more.” 

“And the ice is already moving in the 
White Horse!” said Hale. 

But the solemn routine of the law does not 
take into account the desperate anxieties of 
impetuous young men. After Hale had re¬ 
mained in the city two days, he was in a 
highly nervous state in spite of Marion’s 
brave encouragement. 

“Richard, you’d better get back to the 
woods, and wait for results there,” his uncle 
advised him. “As no particular fight is to 
be made against the temporary injunction, it 
will be just as well if you are represented 
by counsel. And I’ll be on hand, of course. 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


233 


You’re only fretting yourself to death down 
here. Go back, and watch over your inter¬ 
ests on Misery.” 

Wincapaw and his lawyer had left the 
camp when Hale arrived after an exhausting 
journey over rotting snow and dangerous lake 
ice. 

His crew were anxious and downcast. 
Leadbetter was ill in his bunk; his strength 
and courage had at last been beaten out of 
him. 

The sullen “cookee,” or cook’s helper, in¬ 
formed Hale that Doe had deserted. “Least- 
ways, after moping round here a few days, 
talking to himself and acting queer, he lit 
out without saying a word. And it’s been 
pretty hard on me. I don’t know about stay¬ 
ing, if I ain’t going to get any pay for it.” 

“Doe has been losing his mind for some 
time, according to my reckoning,” volun¬ 
teered the teamster who cared for the few 
horses on Misery. “I caught him in the 
hovel snipping hair out of the manes and 
tails of that roan pair. He wouldn’t give 
me any reasons, and went at me with a pitch- 


234 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


fork when I interfered with him. There’s 
been a hoodoo put on this whole thing! I 
reckon we’ll all be leaving, and take our 
chances on getting our pay.” 

Hale realized now that his uncle’s advice 
that he return to the camp had been wise. 
He found his hands full in quelling this 
growing mutiny. He even followed a half- 
dozen men down the tote-road five miles, 
overtook them, and forced them to return by 
sheer strength of will. 

His resolution had some effect in straight¬ 
ening out the general situation, and it was 
agreed among the men that this wild-eyed 
young man was dangerous in his present 
state of mind. They succumbed in surly 
fashion; the whole atmosphere on Misery 
Gore was charged with distrust and despair. 

Stacy kept doggedly at work, using the last 
s of the sledding for finishing the log haul. 
He was trying to make a record for his en¬ 
gine, and his own personal interest in that 
effort made him unwilling to quit the job, 
but even “Susan Puffer” snorted through the 
trees with an angry note in her exhausts. 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 235 

At last Misery Gore fully deserved its de¬ 
pressing name! 

The White Horse had broken his winter 
bonds, and was roaring down his gorges, 
fairly clamoring for logs to be fed to him. 
.Those logs were high on the banks, and the 
precious water was running away from them. 

After a few days, Wincapaw returned to 
the camp with his lawyer and a deputy sher¬ 
iff, and the injunction was duly placed. The 
young man accepted the service of the paper 
without a word. 

The heir and his lawyer settled in camp 
to enjoy life. They insultingly refused Hale’s 
last appeal that they would cooperate with 
him to the extent of starting the drive, and 
leave the ownership to be finally settled by 
the courts. He was pleading as much for his 
crew as for himself. 




CHAPTER XXI 

Then the unexpected return of Doe broke 
the cruel monotony of those days of waiting. 
He came tramping in through the slush one 
afternoon, with six strange men at his heels. 

Hale did not receive his recreant cook 
with cordiality. Doe’s utter self-possession 
irritated the young man. 

“I reckoned that you’d notice the differ¬ 
ence in the cooking, but I hope no one has 
had dyspepsy out of it,” remarked Doe, 
suavely. 

Hale was too much disgusted by the cook’s 
effrontery to make any comment. The little 
man led his companions into the “dingle” 
with as much assurance as if he were still 
master of the cook’s domain. When they 
were eating, Doe came across to the “wan- 
gan” porch, where Hale was sitting discon¬ 
solately. 

“You said to yourself when you got back 

236 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


237 


here, ‘Well, there’s Doe slipped up on me 
like all the rest of the Misery proposition.’ 
That’s what you said, I suppose.” 

Doe was trying to speak in his usual bland 
tones, but he had an air of excitement that 
caught Hale’s attention. However, at that 
moment he was not interested in any topic 
that Doe might be able to present. 

“I don’t think I had any talk with myself 
on the subject,” he answered. 

If that s the case, you didn t put in any 
time wondering at some of the remarks I let 
drop about walking round Cap’n Kidd, 
hey?” 

“I think your remarks, as you call them, 
were probably as silly as your action in man¬ 
gling my horses’ tails and manes.” 

“That’s just the way I like to hear you 
talk,” said Doe, slapping his leg. “When I 
get ready to heap coals of fire, Mr. Hale, I 
like to have the head where I’m going to 
heap ’em, tipped back, proud and haughty. 
Mr. Hale,” the little cook straightened him¬ 
self, and pounded his fist on his chest, “I’ll 
have to ask you to follow me, and keep your 


23B LEADBETTER’S luck 

mouth shut, no matter what you see. Come 
on, I say! Follow me! No questions!” 

It was a mandate not to be resisted. There 
was something in Doe’s tones and air that 
impressed his employer. Wondering, he fol¬ 
lowed the cook across to the main camps. 
The strangers, who had just finished munch¬ 
ing their cookies, obeyed the leader’s beck¬ 
oning and fell in behind. They marched into 
the camp. 

Wincapaw sat there, reading a paper-cov¬ 
ered novel and smoking a cigar with deep 
content. Blunt was dozing in a bunk. Most 
of Hale’s crew were lounging round the 
room on the long benches, whittling moodily. 

It was plain that Doe believed in short, 
sharp action for his little drama. 

“Now, according to rules and plans laid 
down,” he shouted, in excited staccato, “the 
signal is, Top goes the weasel!’” 

His body-guard of six promptly fell upon 
Wincapaw and pinioned him with their big 
hands. Blunt leaped up, but Doe sent him 
back with a thrust that drove him against 
the wall. 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


239 


“You keep out of this,” he snarled, “or, 
there’ll be one less cheap lawyer in the 
world!” 

“Bring me a few licks of molasses!” Doe 
called to the cookee, who stood staring in 
the door. 

When the cookee returned with the mo¬ 
lasses, Doe walked up to the heir, who could 
make no move except to blink his eyes, and 
smeared some of the thick sirup on the con¬ 
torted face. Then he shook out something 
that he dragged from the breast of his jacket. 
It was a bunch of hair, and had evidently 
been knotted in a mat with much skill, for 
when Doe fitted it to Wincapaw’s face, the 
hair proved to be a very fair imitation of a 
bristly, sandy-colored beard, sprinkled with 
gray. 

“Considering that it’s made out of horses’ 
manes and tails, it ain’t a bad job,” said Doe. 

The crew of Misery had rushed forward 
and stood watching the transformation with 
wide-open eyes. When the beard was fitted, 
there were shouts of astonishment. 

“There! You know that fellow now, don’t 


240 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


you?” shouted the triumphant cook. “Let 
these men I’ve brought with me speak first. 
They know him best, now that the fleece is 
back that he shaved off to play this dirty 
trick on honest men!” 

But the victim had got his voice at last, 
and was shrieking that he would have them 
\ all in jail for assaulting him. 

“You better quit that talk,” said one of the 
men who were holding him. “We know 
you, all right, ‘Weasel’ Murdock, and so do 
the rest of the guides in this section. You’ve 
stolen enough supplies from us to make you 
a well-known figure, when your whiskers are 
back where they belong.” 

“Know him!” cried one of the men in 
Hale’s crew, who had pressed close with the 
rest. “Of course it’s Weasel Murdock! Why 
didn’t we see it before?” 

“It’s because you didn’t walk round him 
times enough,” said Doe, “and because you 
haven’t got detective blood in you, and be¬ 
cause you haven’t tended to grabbing in all 
your life.” 

“This is sheer nonsense!” shouted Blunt. 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


241 


“All a lie!” insisted the purple-faced heir. 
“I never heard of a man named Murdock! 
I’ll make you suffer for this!” 

‘‘This critter,” went on Doe, “is a fellow 
who has lived a good many years in the 
woods north of here, dodging round from 
place to place, and getting his living steal¬ 
ing from guides and sporting camps when 
the owners are away. You see, Mr. Hale,” 
he turned on that young man, who stood 
dumb with amazement, “that habit of 
mine of grabbing in makes me know a 
good many people. I make it a point to 
know ’em. And though this critter has 
dodged round so fast that most folks wouldn’t 
recognize him without his whiskers and with 
his mustache dyed, I kept walking round 
him till I guessed. Then, to make sure, I 
went to hunt him up at his main camp where 
he hides,—I found that long ago, being inter¬ 
ested in all such things,—and he wasn’t there, 
and hadn’t been for a long time. But he’s 
here, and there’s plenty of men who will 
swear to him.” 

“Let ’em swear!” raged the captive. “I’m 



242 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


Daniel Wincapaw, and I own this township, 
and I’ll put you behind bars for this!” 

The biggest man in Hale’s crew stepped 
forward, close to the raving man. He put 
out one giant hand, and choked the heir un¬ 
til his eyes were bloodshot and his tongue 
hung out. It was the woods method of get¬ 
ting to bottom facts without waste of time. 

“You needn’t lie to me, Weasel Mur¬ 
dock!” he growled. “I know you. You’ve 
stolen a good many slick pieces of fur from 
my traps, and once I caught you. I’ll bet 
you haven’t forgotten it! And I put my 
mark on you, you dirty whelp!” He pushed 
Murdock’s hair away from his ear, and ex¬ 
hibited a deep scar in the cartilage. “There’s 
my notch, gentlemen! You ain’t content with 
petty sneak-thieving. You’re out now to rob 
this crew of their hard winter’s work. You 
know what a woods crew is when it gets 
started! Do you want me to give the word 
to this one?” 

The man, cowed by the giant’s grip, looked 
round the circle of angry faces, saw their 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


243 


flaming eyes, saw the men clenching their 
fists, and heard the mutterings. He knew 
what a woods crew was when it got started! 

“The bluff is off!” he gasped. “Let me 
go, and I’ll turn state’s evidence.” 

“You be careful!” cried Blunt, but his 
client was afraid of no lawyer; his fear was 
of those growling men, whose enemy he had 
been in the past, and whom he had been 
threatening with still more grievous evil. 

“I’ll tell you the truth!” he cried. “I’m 
Murdock, all right. I never thought I’d 
come through with the scheme, anyway. I 
was going to skip after the drive was held 
up. I couldn’t back up the Western yarn. 
It was John Batterson’s get-up. He hired 
me. It’s his plan and his brains. I’m being 
honest with you, boys. Don’t come on me 
for it. Batterson hired me. He furnished 
the lawyer and everything. It’s all his job.” 

Blunt had edged behind the men in the 
excitement, but Hale’s grip fell on the law¬ 
yer as he was making for the door, and the 
young man shook him until Blunt quavered 


244 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


appeals for mercy. Hale’s violence was not 
entirely the result of his grudge against this 
tool of Batterson’s. He felt such a wild 
tumult in his mind, such a desire to leap, to 
shout, to scream out his feelings, that he 
could not help mauling the lawyer a little. 

He looked up suddenly, and saw Leadbet- 
ter staggering into the door. The shouts of 
the men, who were now cheering like luna¬ 
tics, had brought him out of his bunk. 

“What is it, Mr. Hale—what is it?” he 
cried. 

“What is it?” shrieked Hale, as he fairly 
lifted the unhappy Blunt, and brandished 
him before Leadbetter. “It’s success for us, 
it’s life, it’s glory—oh, good old Anse, get 
Doe to tell you! I’m too happy to do any¬ 
thing except yell.” He threw Blunt away 
from him. 

“Tie up the two of ’em,” he commanded. 
“Truss ’em like calves bound for market. 
They’re going down country, and they’re go¬ 
ing to start now! I’m going with ’em!” 

He dragged the notice of the injunction 



HE TOSSED THE FLUTTERING FLAKES OVER THE 


HEADS OF HIS ROARING MEN 











































. 







LEADBETTER’S LUCK 245 

out of his pocket and tore it into bits, and 
tossed the fluttering flakes over the heads of 
his roaring men. 

“There’s no question of what will become 
of that injunction when I get down there!” 
he cried. “That water is running away from 
us. In with those logs! There isn’t a judge 
on the bench who will blame us. In with 
the logs men! And I’ll be back here inside 
a week, wading waist-deep with you. But 
first of all,”—he leaped upon a bench and 
dragged the blushing Doe up with him,— 
“first of all, give three cheers for this little 
guardian angel of us all! Brother Doe, the 
king of all detectives was spoiled when you 
made yourself the best woods cook who ever 
dipped doughnuts! No, three cheers are not 
enough!” he called when they were given, 
and Doe was struggling to escape. “Three 
times three!” 

And when the “tiger” came, he heaved 
Doe into the arms that were waiting for him, 
and then led the parade round the camp out¬ 
side, with the protesting cook riding high 
on the shoulders of the men. 


246 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

That night, with a man to help him, Hale 
started down-country with his captives. He 
left behind him a new Leadbetter—made 
young and strong once more by sheer happi¬ 
ness. 


CHAPTER XXII 


IT was a rapid although silent trip that 
Hale made with his captives. The man who 
accompanied him was the giant who had 
cowed Murdock; as a game-warden, he had 
legal power to arrest men in the unorganized 
regions of the state. Consequently, Hale lis¬ 
tened to Blunt’s protests against what he 
termed illegal arrest with great composure. 

Blunt was still in a fighting mood. But 
he and the Wincapaw claimant had been 
whiling away time on Misery by slaughter¬ 
ing deer in the close season, an offense that 
had attracted little attention. Now it fur¬ 
nished the game warden with an adequate 
reason for making the arrest. 

At the shire town of the county the big 
warden turned the prisoners over to the 
sheriff on the charge of having killed game 
out of season. Hale saw them placed in 
cells, and went back to the hotel, knowing 
that before they could find any one to give 

247 


248 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

bail for them the affair would be in the 
hands of competent lawyers. 

At the first opportunity he had tele¬ 
graphed to his uncle and his lawyer, and had 
urged them to meet him at the shire town. 
They were with him before he slept that 
night. 

“I’m not surprised at Blunt’s going into 
the scheme, if he was paid enough,” said the 
lawyer. “He has been on the ragged edge 
of disbarment for some years. Undoubtedly, 
both he and Murdock intended to drop out 
of sight after the drive had been held up for 
the season. About all the damage would 
have been accomplished in these few weeks 
of hold-up. I can understand why those two 
blacklegs are in the affair. But as for John 
Batterson—do you believe what they say? 
It was a madman’s act, backing such a plot 
with such tools!” 

“It’s hard to believe it,” said Hale, “but if 
it had been simply a case of plain financial 
hold-up, these men would have had their 
hands stretched out for money. They re¬ 
fused to compromise. Their purpose was to 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


249 

ruin us as a firm—put us out of business on 
the river.” 

“After the last directors’ meeting, Batter- 
son knew that he was at the end of his rope 
with the Telos Company,” said Weston Hale. 
“As soon as we began to dig into his affairs, 
we uncovered an amazing system of petty 
stealings and graft. You see, business in the 
woods is different from any other kind; you 
put an experienced field manager in charge, 
and are obliged to leave details to him. Evi¬ 
dently Batterson found how easy it was to 
dip in for himself, and kept getting bolder. 
He couldn’t have kept it up much longer, 
but he dates all disclosures from the time my 
nephew appeared on the ground. I’ll admit 
that the plot that has just been exposed is 
almost too much to believe. But a man gets 
used to a certain amount of lawlessness in the 
woods, and sometimes doesn’t stop to weigh 
chances.” 

“Of course the identification of Murdock 
will promptly dissolve that temporary in¬ 
junction,” said the lawyer. “That’s the first 
big item.” 


250 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

“I took a chance on that,” confessed Hale. 
“The logs are running. We couldn’t afford 
to miss the driving pitch—and it’s hard work 
getting messages to Misery.” 

“I think the spirit of the law will cover 
your case,” the lawyer said. “I’ll attend to 
the letter of the law the first thing in the 
morning. Now what are my instructions for 
the next move? This case has come to a 
head on the eve of the April term here— 
the criminal term. The grand jury begins 
its sessions day after to-morrow. You seem 
to have two pretty important witnesses bot¬ 
tled up in the county jail.” 

“I suppose there’s only one thing to do,” 
said Weston Hale. “That’s to place our evi¬ 
dence in the hands of the county attorney 
and let the matter run its course.” 

“What action are the Telos people taking 
in regard to Batterson’s affairs?” 

“We’re not going to prosecute. The direc¬ 
tors are half to blame, anyway. They gave 
over everything into his hands. He was 
making ingoing crews tote goods without 
pay, and was collecting toting fees from the 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 251 

company for his own pocket. He even went 
to selling supplies and taking the money, 
half-feeding our crews, and keeping a labor 
fuss going all the time. Our directors ought 
to have known about such matters. We hate 
to have such mismanagement of our business 
shown up, even for the sake of punishing 
Batterson. We’re simply going to discharge 
him. But this matter of the Misery Gore 
conspiracy seems to be out of our hands.” 

“I’m interested mostly in one thing now,” 
cried Richard Hale, “and that’s in seeing the 
Misery logs go down into the river to join 
the main drive! Have I got to stay away 
from my work to fight Batterson? The man 
has abused me, but I’d rather be attending 
to my business than fighting him in court.” 

“That’s a very proper spirit,” said the law¬ 
yer, “but the affair must take its course in 
the courts. Moving to secure the dissolving 
of the injunction will open the case. The 
county attorney must be informed of the cir¬ 
cumstances. You’ll be called before the 
grand jury.” 

It was in no spirit of resignation that Hale 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


252 

sat down to await the convening of the grand 
jury, even though the county attorney, after 
a conference, agreed to call witnesses in the 
case at the very opening of the session. 

The next day it became apparent that 
Blunt was still belligerent. He sent several 
telegrams, and demanded a hearing on the 
poaching charge. After the summons had 
been served on him, commanding his atten¬ 
dance before the grand jury, he sent more 
telegrams. 

j; Late that evening Hale, his uncle, the 
game-warden and their attorney were going 
over the case in anticipation of the meeting 
of the grand jury the following morning. 

“The county attorney has decided to make 
Batterson the principal in the indictment,” 
said the lawyer. “Murdock has volunteered 
as a witness; Blunt will have to talk. As 
difficult as it is to believe that a man in Bat- 
terson’s position would-” 

Hard knuckles banged upon the door, the 
door was flung open, and John P. Batterson 
stalked in. 

“I believe in taking the bull by the horns, 



LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


253 


gentlemen!” he cried. His hard eyes 
searched face after face. At that moment he 
seemed more self-possessed than any of the 
others in the room. 

“If you see any horns here, take hold of 
them, Batterson,” said Mr. Weston Hale. 

Batterson shut the door, and came into the 
center of the room. “I take it you weren’t 
looking for me,” he observed. 

“I knew that four of the telegrams Blunt 
sent out to-day were for you,” said the law¬ 
yer. “But I certainly didn’t think you would 
care to hurry in this direction.” 

“This is just the place where I belong 
when there’s a plot on foot to carry me be¬ 
fore the grand jury on the word of a sneak- 
thief and a renegade lawyer.” 

“There is no plot. But there is to be an 
investigation of certain extraordinary mat¬ 
ters,” said the attorney. 

“This spy is still at his work, eh?” Bat¬ 
terson pointed a gaunt finger at Hale. 

The young man leaped to his feet; his 
eyes were flashing. 

“Batterson,” he cried, “you don’t need to 


254 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


have me rehearse your efforts to ruin me 
since I met you up in those woods! I have 
never interested myself in any of your busi¬ 
ness. I did what I told you I should do—I 
told the Telos people why I could not carry 
out my orders while I was in their employ. 
My conscience is entirely clear. Now I’ll 
take no more insults from you!” 

“This is no time for your insolence, Bat¬ 
terson,” said Weston Hale. “The Telos peo¬ 
ple have given you a chance you didn’t de¬ 
serve. That consideration ought to soften 
you. But you come raging in here more 
brazen than ever. What’s the matter with 
you?” 

“You are proposing to take a mess of lies 
before the grand jury of this county!” cried 
Batterson. 

“What Murdock says may be a lie; I hope 
it is, for the sake of a man who has held your 
position in this part of the country. But it’s 
for the grand jury to weigh the evidence.” 

“I’ve come here to warn you against try¬ 
ing to slop any of your guesswork evidence 
over on to me!” shouted Batterson. “I sup- 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 255 

pose you thought I was the kind of a man 
who would lie down, stick four paws in the 
air, and ki-yi for mercy because a liar got 
busy with my affairs. I’ve seen Blunt. 
Blunt knows that Murdock has lied. I’m 
going to fight this thing. I like to serve 
notice on men when I’m fighting ’em. I’m 
here to do it.” He turned on the younger 
Hale. “When a raw-boned cub of your di¬ 
mensions comes round on my stamping- 
ground and tries to run me out of business, I 
don’t propose to let him get away with it. 
And you can take that for just what it’s 
worth!” / 

Then he stamped out of the room. 

“Well, gentlemen,” remarked the lawyer, 
“I think you perceive that the law must be 
allowed to take its course with the intract¬ 
able Mr. Batterson.” 

The next day Richard Hale and the big 
game-warden were called before the grand 
jury. They gave their testimony, and were 
permitted to go about their business. That 
business for Richard was on Misery Gore 
just then. 


256 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

“There’s no need of sitting round here and 
waiting for that jury to rise,” his lawyer said 
to him. “Here’s the court order dissolving 
the injunction. I’ll inform you by letter of 
the findings of the grand jury.” 

With a light heart, Hale hastened back to 
Misery. The logs were running beautifully. 
Leadbetter’s sluices were entirely successful. 
The overflow gushed through the cribwork, 
the logs rode safe. Even the more skittish 
ones that reared high on the flood and leaped 
at the rim of the sluices could not scale the 
barrier. 

The men of the crew had become an en¬ 
thusiastic band. Leadbetter declared that 
every man was worth two of the ordinary 
sort, and that Doe was the equal of four 
cooks; he followed the drive down the 
stream with his outfit, pitched camp each 
night in a new place, and gave his men four 
good meals every day. 

“You didn’t mention outside, did you, Mr. 
Hale, that a good detective is up here wast¬ 
ing his time?” asked Doe one day. 

“No, sir! For you’re nailed to this job 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 257 

for the rest of your natural life at double the 
wages paid any cook in these north woods.” 

“I don’t know what detectives get for 
pay,” said Doe, thoughtfully, “and I don’t 
care now. I’m better suited—and I’ll do 
your private detecting—that is, if I won’t be 
accused of grabbing in.” 

Hale laughed, and slapped him on the 
back. 

A week later Hale received a letter from 
his lawyer. Before the grand jury, Mur¬ 
dock had denied that Batterson had been im¬ 
plicated in the alleged plot to stop the work 
on Misery. He declared that when he had 
accused Batterson, he was in fear of his life, 
and had merely been trying to shift respon¬ 
sibility. Blunt had been equally insistent be¬ 
fore the jury that Batterson had not been 
concerned. 

That much of the secrets of the grand-jury 
room the county’s prosecuting attorney had 
confided to interested persons in the case. 

“It is plain to me and to your uncle,” the 
lawyer added, “that Batterson has been using 
money again. His tools are willing to earn 




258 LEADBETTER’S LUCK 

pay by shouldering his guilt. Both were 
indicted for conspiracy with intent to de¬ 
fraud, pleaded nolo contendere, and were 
sentenced to three years each in state prison. 
The punishment is not adequate, in my opin¬ 
ion, and it is unfortunate that Batterson has 
escaped. But the case was hurried to the 
grand-jury room before a thorough investi¬ 
gation could be made, and we must abide by 
the result. There is an element of comfort 
in the situation for you, however. 

“The Telos Company heard of certain 
threats that Batterson had been making. He 
had declared publicly that he would see 
what dynamite would do in bringing people 
to their senses in the north country. The 
directors of the Telos Company called him 
in, laid a list of his dishonest transactions 
before him, and gave him a chance to leave 
the state and escape punishment. They put 
the matter so strongly to him that he has left. 
The course may be questionable from a point 
of justice, but the Telos people wished to get 
rid of him as easily as possible. I think you 
are now safe from persecution by a man who, 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 259 

as far as you were concerned, was a danger¬ 
ous maniac.” 

Hale passed the letter to Leadbetter. 

“Jail is the right kind of punishment for 
the wickedness of some people,” Leadbetter 
remarked, after he had read the communica¬ 
tion. “But what has happened to John P. 
Batterson hits him as hard as any jail sen¬ 
tence could do. Mr. Hale, that man was 
drunk with the power he had up in this 
country. He didn’t want to see me succeed 
—he didn’t want to have any one be any¬ 
thing up here. That man’s punishment be¬ 
gan the day you landed in these parts. He 
saw that the Telos people were starting some¬ 
thing new in forestry matters, and that it 
w r as going to expose him. So he put up a 
fight.” 

A few weeks later, when the Misery logs 
were well along in the main streams, a mes¬ 
senger brought Hale an important com¬ 
munication from the directors of the Telos 
Company. There was also a letter from 
Weston Hale. That letter cautioned the 
young man against being too much set up by 


260 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


his new honors, since the appointment was 
partly the result of personal “pull.” A loyal 
and admiring uncle at headquarters was 
largely responsible for the fact that Richard 
Hale had been made temporary master of 
the Telos drive for that season in place of 
Batterson. 

Weston Hale added that emissaries from 
the company had privately observed Rich¬ 
ard’s system on Misery, and that the direc¬ 
tors were sure he could do their business suc¬ 
cessfully. 

Thus it happened that the Misery logs 
“joined drives” not only with the Gordons’ 
timber but also with the logs of the Telos 
Company, and there was no quarrel over the 
right of way on those waters, for “Ham¬ 
merhead” Batterson’s domination had been 
abolished for all time. 

“When I picked you for a partner, my 
heart told me I was picking right,” Lead- 
better said to Hale. “But I didn’t know I 
was picking a partner who would open the 
river to us in this syle. Mr. Hale, they 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


261 


never again can call me ‘Hard-Luck’ Anse.” 

The story how the drive came bouncing 
down in record time to the big sorting-boom 
is now a matter of river history. Richard 
Hale proved himself an excellent master of 
men. More than that, by his management 
of the lumber operation on Misery, he had 
shown what the applied science of forestry 
could accomplish in preserving resources. 

In the way of a celebration there was a 
dinner-party in Sister Marion’s home. The 
honored guests were Richard and Jell Gor¬ 
don. The latter respected the hostess’s nerves 
by his remarkable control of his voice. He 
yelled his “Wah-hoo-wah” only once, and 
then humbly apologized. But he was as¬ 
sured by Marion that the occasion was 
helped by the explosion. 

In the summer, the directors of the Telos 
Company, after inspecting Misery Gore and 
their own tracts of land, concluded that the 
modern science of forestry has much to do 
with profitable lumbering. 

Benjamin Stacy, president of the Stacy 


262 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 


Log-Hauling Machine Company, received a 
letter containing an order for ten engines, 
jocosely referred to in the postscript as 
“Susan Puffers.” The letter was signed, 
“Richard Hale, Field Manager for the 
Telos Company.” 

When a timber operator has as able a 
helper as Anson Leadbetter, he can afford 
to leave private affairs in his partner’s hands. 
When the Telos Company had made its offer, 
Richard Hale had been aware of this fact. 
And Misery Gore is turning her full quota 
of logs into the streams each spring, under 
the direction of Leadbetter. 

However, if you study the new timber 
tract maps that Hale has prepared, you will 
not find on them the name “Misery Gore.” 
The tract is plotted as “Leadbetter’s Luck,” 
and its registered log-mark is a horseshoe. 

The partners adopted the name and mark 
at the suggestion of Peter Doe, who pre¬ 
faced his proposal with an apology for 
“grabbing in.” But Doe, who has been pre¬ 
sented with a silent partnership in the Mis- 


LEADBETTER’S LUCK 263 

ery venture, was really only grabbing into his 
own business that time. And furthermore, 
he has business enough of his own that de¬ 
mands his attention. He is field steward for 
all the Telos camps, with a score of cooks 
to hire and oversee. 


THE END 


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